Love Sick
by Dapper Dumpling
Summary: The Fourth of July is coming up and America invites Italy in person. The two become friends, but distance is placed between the two when Germany steps in and it's driving America crazy. He claims his feelings towards Italy are platonic, but what happens when the Fourth of July rolls around? Rated for cursing and a little kissing. No smut and nothing too graphic.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

America clutched small slips of paper to his chest as he wove through the tight crowd of citizens working his way towards a small restaurant on the curb. He panted slightly, as he approached a small, auburn-haired Italian who was already sipping on a hot drink at a table set for two.

"Yo Italy! Dude!" The American called, waving as Italy turned and gave him a bright smile.

"Ve, America!" The country froze as Feliciano sprang up and enveloped the American in a tight hug. Alfred blinked, surprised by Italy's affection but returned the hug with equal enthusiasm. He hardly knew the little country and they had only exchanged a few polite words, but America oddly enjoyed the friendly gesture.

Italy pulled back, a smile still imprinted on his cheerful features. America coughed an awkward few seconds later and held out one of his many papers for the Italian to take, which he did looking down at it with a curious expression. "Well, here you go dude! I'd really love it if you came!"

A though struck the American and he immediately began to babble. "You are going to make it right? I mean, what else would you do on the fourth of July? And who better to spend it with but the hero himself, a-and you wanted an invitation. But Italy!"

He gripped the now stunned country by the shoulders, his blue eyes going wide with panic. But before Italy could say anything Alfred cut him off yelling. "Bro, you have to come! It's your first time ever coming over to my house and I-"

"America!" Feliciano put two gentle hands on America's shoulders, trying to calm the panicking country as they were catching the eyes of nearly everyone in the restaurant at this point. Italy gave them a polite smile before turning back to America's cerulean blue eyes.

"Of course I'm coming!" He chirped watching in amusement as America's panicked expression melted slowly into a relieved smile, the worry dying in the American's chest. "Phew, that's great bro!"

Feli giggled, pulled America into the chair opposite his and hurried to sit in his own. The Italian crossed his legs and clasped his hands together in a way that made Alfred's heart flutter, he just looked too cute! He put his invitations down and gave Italy a huge grin.

"Aww you're so cute!" America exclaimed.

Feli blushed and leaned in a little, a shy smile on his face. "Hmn. I know! Your glasses are adorable as well!"

America laughed. "Sweet! I knew I rocked the glasses look!"

Their laughter rang out for another minute before they settled into a comfortable silence. America looked down at his watch and his eyes widened.

"Oh crap! It's almost past lunch." He scooped up his invitations and looked back up at Italy. "I should go, can't miss my afternoon grub!"

He didn't miss the disappointed look in the small country's eyes as he said that. "Ve, would you like to order lunch here then? Maybe we could chat a little longer…"

America thought this over for a second and his face broke out into another warm smile. "Oh yeah that's right. We are at a restaurant after all why not?"

He flopped back down in his seat and laid his invitations back down onto the table in a large, messy pile. "What do they serve here, anyway?"

The Italian giggled lightly and grabbed his mug of coffee taking a small sip before glancing down at the menu. "Ve, food I suppose! I'm not exactly sure, this is my first time being here…"

"Sweet I love food!"

They both laughed again and slipped into quick-paced small talk involving many wild hand gestures and much obnoxious laughter. But after only a few minutes American's stomach began to growl loudly and he smiled sheepishly up at Italy. "Ve, I think it's time to order something to eat."

America nodded enthusiastically and stared down at the menu. His face was screwed up in concentration as he looked over the different meals and prices. "You ready to order?"

Alfred looked up at Feliciano's warm chocolate eyes as the country leaned closer to him. America felt his cheeks heat up and smiled up at the Italian nation. He felt like the two of them were really clicking. Something about Feli and him was just working right now, it was hard to explain. America could see peace forming between the two country's. Then, feeling the need to voice this newfound discovery, the American spoke up in a cheerful tone. "You're so cute!" He felt like a broken record, but he was couldn't help saying it again. "We are going to be such awesome friends!"

America looked on, his smile faltered and his expression became confused as Italy pulled back. The blond was sure for a moment he saw hurt flicker across the nation's features. But he realized a moment later he might have just imagined it. "Ve, of course we will!

America let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and looked back down at the menu. He stared at it for a good minute before closing it and staring nervously at the Italian across him. He hadn't realized this place was Italian. "Uh, I have no idea what any of this is."

The moment he lets those words slip out, he regretted saying them. He slapped two hands to his mouth and stared, wide eyed at the menu. This was all Italian food, what if Italy felt offended? What if he didn't want to be friends anymore? He had such a bad reputation for being racist and hating other countries (which wasn't true at all) and he didn't want Italy thinking of him like that…

So it surprised him immensely when he heard the nation giggle and call. "That's ok! I'll just order something for you, I'm sure you'd like-"

And the country went on to name and describe various different Mediterranean dishes that made Alfred's mouth water. It was a good five minutes until the country stopped and called a waiter over to take their orders. "So, you're not mad? Or offended?"

Italy cocked his head to the side (which made America want to express once again how adorable he found the little country) and inquired. "Ve, why would I feel offended?"

America gave a few wild arm gestures before answering, slightly desperately. "Because! Well… I just- I mean you love your food and I just… I mean you-"

He groaned frustration as he tried to convey his message to an ever-confused Italian, who eventually put the American out of his misery. "Its ok America. I know you didn't mean anything by it."

His blue eyes shined with appreciation. He hadn't offended his new friend! "Really?"

Italy blushed and leaned in a little closer. "It's ok. But don't worry, I'm sure you'll love it!"

"Of course I will Italian food is awesome bro!"

Italy blushed again and exclaimed happily. "Grazie America!"

"Oh my gosh did you hear about that big fight Iggy and France had the other day…"And they slipped easily back into their boisterous chit chat. American was delighted to find that they had a few things in common. The only big difference was, while America loved to jump into battle at any opportunity, Italy was content with running away and avoiding all possible confrontation with battle.

"That's ok dude not everyone is cut out to be an awesome hero like myself. There wouldn't be anyone to save from the bad guys!"

Italy smiled shyly. "And, would you save me?"

Alfred squared his shoulders and straightened his back, putting both hands on his hips and looking dramatically into the country's shimmering chocolate eyes. "Of course I would! You're my friend and that's exactly what hero's do!"

There! There it was again! America was certain that Feli's face fell, if only for a moment, before his smile was back full force. "Grazie America!"

It made him concerned, he didn't know Italy very well yet, but if something was bothering him, America wanted to know about it. "Italy? Are you alright bro?"

He looked, a little nervous now. "Ve, What do you mean?"

He shook his head. "It's nothing, I guess, you just looked a little…" The blond looked down, trying to find the right word. Sad? Anxious? Forlorn? "I dunno, maybe it was just my imagination." He laughed awkwardly, hoping Italy wouldn't press.

Italy just nodded and there was a very long moment of silence before, thankfully, their food arrived. America looked down at his dish with shimmering blue orbs. "Whoa! This looks awesome!"

He glanced over at Italy's plate and gasped. "Whoa! The sauce is white! What happened? Oh my freakin gosh it's albino like that Prussia dude!"

Italy laughed. "You Americans say some really funny things sometimes. It's so cute!"

"Thanks dude! But your food-"

"Its alfredo sauce, it's supposed to be white. Ve! Are you saying you have never even heard of it?"

"No way dude I thought all pasta sauce is like, red and stuff."

Italy smiled gleefully and chirped. "Well, would you like to try some?"

"Heck freaking yes!"

Italy's smile widened as he twirled his fork into the knot of noodles and held it out in front of Alfred's nose. America's mouth watered at the smell. He closed his eyes and leaned forward and just as he was about to try the strange new food-"Italia!"

Italy jumped back, nabbing the blond of his bit of food at the very last possible moment. He felt a slight pang of loss as Italy turned and screamed. "Germany!"

America bit back an exasperated sigh as Italy put down his fork and bounded over to the blond, muscle bound country and gave him a huge hug. The German froze for a moment before hesitantly wrapping his arms around the Italian's waist. "Ve, what is Germany doing here?"

The Germanic nation let Italy go and sent America a glare that made his blood boil. "You said you would only be gone a little while. When you did not return I got worried and came to see if you were alright."

Alfred didn't like the German's tone, nor did he appreciate the interruption. They never exactly saw eye to eye, but why was he so angry at Germany all of a sudden? "Aw Germany was worried about me!" Italy squeaked happily.

Germany coughed and looked down. "Yes, I suppose I was." He mumbled.

Italy giggled and pulled up another chair. "America and I were just going to have lunch, would Germany like to join us?"

No! America didn't want to break bread with Germany! Something about him was just making the American immensely irritated. He didn't like the person he was when he got angry. "Uh, well. I've already eaten but I suppose I could stay for a little while…"

Italy positively beamed while Alfred silently fumed. "You're being suspiciously quiet, American." Germany noted, as he sat down next to Italy.

America's eyes narrowed and he coughed, trying to hide his expression from Italy. This was the nation's best, and possibly oldest friend. It wouldn't look so good if he was openly hostile; even if it was no secret the two nations weren't exactly friends. So America plastered on a bright smile (hoping it didn't look too forced) and replied "What'cha talkin' 'bout dude? Italy and I have been going at it all afternoon!" Ludwig's eyes widened and America immediately realized his mistake. "Wait! No I didn't-"

"Ve, What are you talking about America?" Italy inquired, looking up at the young nation with those large, chocolate eyes as he cocked his head to the side in that adorable little way he did-

"It's nothing Italy." Germany assured, shooting Alfred a savage look as Italy turned back to his coffee.

"Oh Italy! Can I try the albino sauce now? Can I please-!"

"The what?" Germany growled, giving the American an irritated glare.

"You know, the alphorn sauce."

The brunette burst into laughter before he cocked his head to the side, a huge smile on his face and asked. "Ve, the alfredo?"

"Yeah! That thing!"

The Germanic nation promptly face palmed. "You American idiot! The least you could do is know what you're talking about-"

"Hey dude, no need for that, I didn't mean anything I just-"

"America you can have some!" Once again, Feli twirled the noodles into the creamy sauce and held it out for Alfred to eat, a sweet smile on his face. America watched as Germany's eye widened and the Italian leaned closer to the American nation. The spectacled country turned towards the Italian boy with his own triumphant smirk (why he felt so smug was beyond him at this point) and leaned closer, propping his elbow up on the table and resting his head on his hands as he took his first bite.

"Dude! This is amazing!" He exclaimed, as he chewed on the gooey noodles happily.

The three of them spent the rest of the afternoon talking about food and cooking. All the while Germany and America were locked in a never-ending battle of trying to keep Italy's attention while subtlety insulting each other. Eventually (And long after the food was gone) Italy looked down at the clock with a panicked looked in his eyes.

"Ve! I'm sorry America, Germany, I promised Romano I would meet Spain and him at 2:30, I have to go!"

The two blondes just nodded, stood up and exchanged one last secretive glare as the Italian paid for his part of the meal and ran around the table. Alfred felt the breath leave him as the little nation once again wrapped his thin arms around his torso and buried his face in the Americans lean chest. America grinned and returned the affection, placing one hand on the top of Feliciano's head and the other around his waist.

"Bye, bye America!" Italy chirped, looking up at the blond with a blinding smile. America cackled and they separated.

"See ya later bro!"

Italy turned and repeated the act with Germany before bounding off into the still bustling crowd.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Alfred sighed as he pressed the palm of his hand into his face. He was bored. Just really bored, ok? Iggy was off meeting the queen, or something to that effect while Japan was being a shut in and not answering the phone.

"Look, Japan, I know you're there. Pick up bro come on!" He groaned as he hung up throwing the device onto the soft cushion next to him.

He had just rented an _awesome_ new horror movie, but he was altogether too scared to watch it alone and he had made the mistake of making a one-night rental without planning ahead. He was starting to regretting that now.

Just when he was about to give up and watch it alone, he realized he still had one more country he could call. It was a bit of a long shot, considering he had only really met with Italy once; but like he said he felt strangely connected to the Mediterranean nation and decided finally to call him up.

America sat there nervously as the phone rang; this was his last chance at being able to watch this movie. He just hoped the Italian would agree to it. "Hello?" Italy's voice rang out, sounding a little tired.

"Italy! Hey dude what's up?" he chirped, his hope dropping as he heard the other nation yawn. "You busy right now?"

"I'm over at Germany's house. I was just about to go to sleep."

"Oh, sorry to disturb you then." He said icily, he didn't like the idea of the nation over at the German's house after what happened during WWII. But it wasn't like there was anything he could do about it. "I'll just go-"

"Oh wait, it's ok. Is there something wrong?" Italy's voice sounded concerned, and America felt a little guilty. That had not been his goal at all when he decided to call.

"Nothing's wrong bro, I just wanted to know if maybe you wanted to come over and watch this new horror movie with me. But if you're already over at Germany's house then..."

"Oh that sounds like fun! I love a good horror movie! Ve, what's it about?"

"I'm not sure really, its highly rated online so I thought I would surprise myself. But I uh," He rubbed that back of his head. "I don't like watching them by myself, not like I couldn't- it's just nice you know to- I-I mean I'm the hero! I can watch it alone if I wanted I just-"

"Ve, I would love to watch it with you America!" Italy interrupted.

"Really?"

"Sure!" Italy sounded much more awake and like himself than at the beginning of the call. "I mean if you still want me over-"

"Sure dude!"

"Great! Ve, I'll see you in a little while!"

America laughed happily before replying. "See ya Italy!"

"Bye America!"

...

Germany ran his fingers through his hair stressfully. Italy had gone on about that stupid, American a little too long today. To no surprise it had irritated the blond to no end and he had to resort to asking the Italian if he wanted to play football. Something Italy had been trying to get him to do for a very long time.

It had actually been quite fun; the memory brought a tiny smile to the German's face. He wasn't surprised to find the country was actually a worthy opponent. After all, the brunette loved playing the sport almost as much as he enjoyed flirting. His pale cheeks darkened at the thought of Italy's flirtatious antics, and decided quickly he needed to think about something else...

The German's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of light footsteps on the stairs. At first, he assumed it was just Prussia going out late for a drinking game with Spain and France. That was a little strange since it was a weekday, but he would never understand his older brother.

Just as he turned around to warn him not to throw up on the couch again, he realized it was Italy pulling on his coat and heading for the door. That made Germany frown, why was Italy leaving? The nation usually stayed the night with Germany, where was he going?

The thought of sleeping without the Italian sent a pang throughout the Germanic nation's chest. Had gotten used to being next to Italy each night. He barely caught the older country before he bounded out the door. "Italy!" The smaller country turned at the sound of his name and gave Germany one of his blinding smiles.

"Ve hi Germany!"

"Italy, where are you going?" He asked, walking forward so he stood just in front of the little Italian.

"Oh, America call and he wants to watch a horror movie with me! He said he wasn't scared, but I could tell he really wanted to watch it with someone, so I-"

"Y-you're going over to America's house?" Germany asked, his mind going blank.

"Si!" Italy giggled. "I'll see you tomorrow Germany!"

Before the blond nation could further protest, Italy had already shut the door.

...

America smiled as he heard a rapid knocking at his door and got up to answer immediately. "Italy!" The smaller country wrapped his arms around Alfred's torso and the American instinctively wrapped his arms around Italy's waist, the familiar warmth filling his chest as he held Feli close.

"America!" He squealed.

"Yo Italy you came!" He cheered.

The smaller country pulled away and the blond felt disappointed at the loss of warmth. "Of course I came! Ve, you needed someone to help you through a movie right? So lets watch!"

"Hey, the hero doesn't _need_ someone to watch with him." America huffed. "It's just nice that's all." Italy smiled as he shed his coat, throwing it onto the couch.

"Ve, I'm glad to help America!" The American returned the smile; the warmth in his chest felt like it was about to burst at the sight of the happy Italian. But he turned away in favor of making the two of them some popcorn.

"It was real nice of you to come out on such short notice." He drawled, putting the bag into his microwave and turning, hearing light footsteps walk in after him.

"Hmm? Oh it's no problem." Italy smiled, and hugged the American from behind. "It'll be nice getting to know you better." He felt himself blush a deep red as Italy rested his cheek on his upper back. Alfred was really enjoying how affectionate the little Italian was being. It was nice, for some reason.

"Same dude." The microwave gave a little _ding_ and Italy let the American nation go to put the popcorn into a bowl. "Do you mind putting the movie in? It's right by the DVD player."

"Sure." Italy let him go as America went to grab his huge cup of coke. He heard Italy put the move in and settled down on the couch. Alfred grabbed the bag of popcorn and flopped down next to the Italian, wrapping them both in his favorite blanket.

"Don't worry, if you get scared the hero will be here to save you!" Italy positively beamed up at the blond and hugged his arm tightly.

"Ve, I'm not scared with you here." America felt his chest swell with warmth as he leaned into the Italian.

"Cool dude!" The movie began to play with the two of them snuggling close together.

"AAAHhhhhHH!" The blond nation screamed, as the film opened up to its first real action scene. He blindly grabbed for the Italian nation beside him. "Dude! That's totally a ghost! And that killer guy is-" He finally got hold of the Italian next to him and clutched at him as if his life depended on it. "Going to get that chick!" He squealed in a rather unmanly way and buried his face into Feli's neck, as if hiding from the screen.

He let out a breath and relaxed as America felt Italy hug him back, shaking slightly at the images on the screen. Italy stroked his head in a comforting rhythm. The blond let out a purr-like rumble from his throat and a rush of affection for the little Italian swelled in the Americans chest as he relaxed in his grip.

The blond nation opened his eyes and looked back at the screen fearfully as the girl on the screen was brutally stabbed in the chest by the ghost-killer-monster-thing. His death grip on the little Italian returned to stare at the screen.

Alfred let out a puff of relief as the credits of the movie played a good half an hour later with the two country's still cuddling close. He felt a rush of gratitude towards the smaller nation. For the first incident, Alfred could tell he was trying not to panic as he himself was having… Issues (he would never admit to anyone that he had broken down. He was way too manly to be reduced to such terms too a simple movie).

But as the film progressed the duo had thoroughly screamed their lungs out and clutched one another in mind-shattering fear. Popcorn had been scattered on the couch and the blond nation had to be extra careful not to spill any of his precious Coke Cola on himself or Italy.

Although frightening, ultimately Alfred and Feli both enjoyed the crap out of that movie. The American was glowing with happiness as he turned off the television and turned his bright smile towards the still shaking Italian. "Dude! That movie rocked!"

That was weird; usually the blond was left feeling about as scared as Italy looked (not that, once again, he would ever admit it out loud). But happiness was radiating off of him like rays of sun. He turned to face the frightened boy next to him. "Hey, are you alright dude?"

"V-ve, I-I'm fine America." Feliciano squeaked, Alfred frowned.

"Hey, come 'ere." America enveloped Italy in a full on bear hug. "Its ok dude, the hero like, totally saved those guys butts!"

The little country nodded his head against America but his grip tightened. The two cuddled like that for a few minutes in complete silence, aside from the closing theme that still played on the television. The American was feeling a little guilty; he hadn't meant to invite Italy just to scare him. It was his duty as the hero to help his friend!

"I should probably go." Alfred heard Feli murmur in a shaky whisper a few minutes later. But before he could think of a way to make him feel better he felt Italy's warmth leave him abruptly as the nation got up and started to pull on his coat.

"Wait!" He heard himself shout, and he found himself blurting out the next sentence without thought. "You shouldn't go home like that, why don't you stay the night?"

There was a condemning silence as the Italian paused and Alfred's brain caught up with his mouth. Why did he keep saying things like that?

"N-no, that's alright America. I probably shouldn't." The Mediterranean nation stammered, looking a nervous and a little hesitant.

But the blond still felt bad, and he found himself insisting-"No way. You're my friend and you came all the way out here so you could help me, I want to do the same for you."

A smile grew on the Italy's face, but the American noticed with a pang that it didn't quite reach his chocolate eyes. "Grazie, America, for the offer. But I really can't"

Alfred found he was more than a little disappointed to hear the door close behind him.

...

America felt a smile light his face as the sound of Italy's sweet giggle sounded off in the phone. He switched the device to his other ear as said country tried desperately to calm his laughter. He loved having someone he could talk to non-stop for an hour or two. It was a nice for a change.

He heard Feli emit a tiny sigh as he finally gained control over his little giggles and Alfred felt disappointment tug at his chest as the Italian said. "Ve, I really have to go America. Romano and I are going out for pasta this afternoon."

America sighed but put on his most cheerful tone as he answered. "K Feli. See you tonight?" As soon as he said it the blond felt like an idiot. Of course he was going to be there! It was a world meeting he had to go represent his country.

Nonetheless Italy answered cheerfully. "Si I'll be there. Goodbye Alfred!"

"See ya later Feli!" America sang before hanging up with a huge, stupid grin on his face. The blond nation had been calling the little country almost daily ever since Italy had been over to watch that horror with him. Alfred's smile widened as he remembered just how these phone call traditions had begun…

 _America ran his fingers through his blond locks the next morning stressfully. He didn't quite understand why he was so concerned for the little Italian. He had watched his horror movies and they were nothing to scoff at._

 _All the same, he hadn't felt quite right letting him leave. Of course, the American nation chalked it up to the fact that Italy was a weaker nation, and, as any concerned friend would do, he called the next day to see if he was alright._

 _He paced anxiously around his kitchen as he waited for Italy to pick up. After what felt like way too long, he heard a tired voice answer. "Hello?"_

" _Italy!" America gave a sigh of relief; glad it wasn't the nation's overly protective brother who had come to the phone. He knew that Romano was all talk, but he wasn't overly fond of the older Italian. Few were. "Hey, I was a little worried about you last night. Are you sure you're all right? You seemed a little shaken up."_

 _Feli then went on to assure the American that he was completely fine after he got home and, apparently had even gotten said protective brother to cuddle with him that night._

 _Alfred smiled as the brunette went on to talk excessively about Romano, and Alfred found that he actually enjoyed listening. And, to his great relief, the smaller nation didn't seem to mind his interrupting and constant questions as other people usually did. Then Alfred went on about his own brother and found that Italy seemed to have to exact same habit of interrupting with questions and random imputes, and America found he really didn't mind._

 _It was…_

 _Nice didn't really give it justice. America had hardly realized an entire hour had passed until his stomach started growl due to lack of food. They laughed and accidently ended up talking about breakfast for another fifteen minutes before the call ended._

And so, the next day he had called Italy again, and the Italian didn't seem to mind that he had no real reason for doing so.

Thus began Alfred's habit of calling Feli, usually in the morning almost everyday. It gave him someone to talk to, someone who the American felt actually listened no matter how wild the conversation turned. America started laughing at the thought of a few of the topics they had somehow managed to breach.

It was, to the blond country, a totally awesome way of bonding with another nation in a way completely unique to just them. He had never done this with anyone else before, save Japan maybe, but he didn't call the Asian nation on a daily basis, and he was pretty sure Japan only partook in their conversations to be polite.

And that was what was confusing America. He didn't understand why things were so different between the two of them. He never did half the stuff they had done with anyone else, he didn't even call England this often.

Not that he was complaining. He loved calling Italy, this little nation was fun, and Alfred found him interesting. But there was something just, different about Italy that the American just couldn't place. He felt, just different and he didn't know what to do about it.

But it wasn't until the blond was walking, admittedly late, into the world meeting and he heard Iggy yell- "Hurry up wanker! Every single time..." When it hit him. Of course! Iggy would know what to do! He would just ask him for some advise.

"Sorry bro. traffic." The blond muttered, flopping down in his chair.

The rest of the meeting went by in a blur for the blond. Although, he did clearly remember getting many dirty looks from Germany. Confused, but ultimately unwilling to back down America sent them back as discreetly as the he could.

"What's your problem dude?" He snarled. Getting up as halfway through the meeting, France called a break claiming the stressful environment was bad for his hair (or something to that effect, America didn't really care). "You've been sending me dirty looks all afternoon."

The German nation didn't reply, as a squealing Italy attached himself to Ludwig's arm and shrieked. "Germany, Germany!" said nation turned his head, blushing and grabbing Italy's arm to steady the little country before he knocked the larger man over. These details did not go unnoticed by America. "Yay! Break time! Lets go get some pasta!"

"Ja, Italia." Germany mumbled, still holding the excitable country by the arm. "Just give me a moment." He gave Alfred a quick glare before turning back to the smiling Italian.

"Ok!" He giggled and bounded over to the American and gave the nation a quick hug. "Hi Alfred!" He squeaked and he ran off to catch up with Japan.

As soon as the brunette was out of sight Alfred turned back to Germany (only then did he realize he had been watching Feli leave). "What's your problem bro?" he sighed. Holding out his arms in a challenging manor. "You wanna go?"

The German looked, a little confused before muttering. "These damn Americans." And he looked up, a new fire in his ice blue eyes the American had never seen before. "I want you to stay away from Italy."

The words hit Alfred like a bus. The American's eyes went wide and his arms dropped back down to his sides. Stop seeing Italy? Germany was clearly crazy. "What?" he ground out, demanding an explanation from Ludwig.

"You heard me." He snapped taking a bold step forward. "I know what you're doing and I won't let that happen."

That… Didn't sound right. The blue-eyed American didn't know how to respond, what did he mean by that? "I don't-"

"Save it yank." He growled, taking another few steps forward so the two blondes' were face to face. Said yank stepped up to the plate (no pun intended [unless you think those are funny, then yes pun intended]) facing the other nation with determination, despite not knowing exactly what the German was talking about. "Italy might be naïve, but I most certainly am not. Stop talking to him, or I will make your life very interesting." He hissed.

Before America could come up with any kind of response, a loud gallop of footsteps was heard and Germany took a few steps backwards before Feli crashed into him, wrapping his arms tightly around Ludwig's middle. "Germany! Come on! Come on! Japan brought a football and those cute little rice balls for lunch!" He squeaked, squeezing the larger nation tighter.

"Ok Italy." The German nation conceded. Giving the American one last look before turning towards the hyperactive Italian and walking away.

This left America to stand there, shocked and more than a little pissed. He knew that Germany didn't like him, that's just how it worked between country's sometimes. But he didn't think the blond would go as far as threaten him because he they shared a mutual friend.

Did he just want to fight? Alfred wondered, as he walked down the hall and out the door to the front where most of the other nations were talking, eating or putting the final touches on their presentations and speeches. What right did he have to threaten him like that?

No, that wasn't like Germany. He needed advice. His first instinct for advice was Japan; he was one of the only nations that actually liked (tolerated) the American. He found the Asian country was very knowledgable when it came to these kinds of personal situations.

But that wasn't an option, as the Japanese man was one of Germany's friends.

Of the few people who talked to Germany, he had to pick the two nations the American liked and that liked (tolerated, on Japan's part) him too.

The fact only fueled America's hate for the blond country. Why couldn't he have any actual friends? He was sick of it; there was no way he would let big, scary Germany stand in his way.

He huffed as he walked into the small park in the back of the building they had been using for this meeting, anger prickling every inch of his skin. The area was put there for recreation, but it was mostly used when break time came in after a particularly long meeting. Today was no exception the blond noted, seeing a huge group of country's talking. He looked on and noticed England among them, and upon seeing Iggy he remembered his initial goal and made his way towards the older country gingerly. "Iggy, dude, can I talk to you a sec?"

The British nation scowled but excused himself from whatever conversation he was having and followed the American away from the crowd.

As soon as they were out of earshot the acid eyed nation scowled up at the taller blond. "This better be good you twit." He snapped and he folded his arms.

"It's just- I need some advice about…" The younger hesitated, could he trust England?

"Well, get on with it then!" He hissed and America leaned in close, dragging the older nation slightly forward, making him blush. "What are you doing-?"

"It's about Feli." He admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Italy? What's wrong? Do you think Germany is making him do something-?"

"What? No! It's uhh… _Personal._ " He muttered his face turning a slight red. "But yes, it also involves Germany."

England started shaking, and Alfred opened his mouth to ask if he was ok when hysterical giggles burst from his lips. The American's jaw dropped, _what on earth was so funny?_

"Dude!" He exclaimed feeling slightly scandalized. Wasn't England supposed to be the responsible one? "Stop laughing!" He frowned when the Brit's laughter only increased. "People are staring!" The last line was a lie, but had the desired effect as the British nation, stopped, glanced worriedly around, scowled at his former colony.

"That was a dirty trick, Yank." He hissed, his acid eyes burning.

"Well it worked didn't it?" Arthur scowled but mirth was lurking behind his light green eyes.

"Spill it then." He snapped, and Alfred waste no more time in explaining-

"Ok, so- I really like Feli. I think we make an awesome pair, right? So we've been hanging out ya know, just chillin lately. Then _Germany_ -" He scowled momentarily before continuing. "Comes up to me today and he's just like, 'I know what you're doing, and I'm not going to let it happen.' And like, I would've said something super cool and witty, but Italy comes up and they just leave." The American finished with his arms out, feeling, once again, scandalized. "I mean, what's up with that?"

It took a moment or two for the British nation to catch on to all the butchered words and phrases before he responded. "So, you like Italy. That is, you _like_ Italy?" The nation asked, his bushy eyebrows rose looking for confirmation.

The blond American sighed, he didn't know if he knew. He was _so_ confused. He loved being around Italy, the little nation could relate to him in ways he felt no one else could. He was kind and handsome…

But there was just one problem.

"I can't."

...

Alfred's eyes dropped guiltily to the floor as he realized his mistake. "I-I mean I don't! I'm not gay! Italy and I are just friends!" The blond insisted, catching the eye of a few standby country's. "Can you just, give me some advice please? I don't know what to do about Germany."

The Englishman shook his head in disbelief, his acid green eyes still wide. "I- wait, what did you mean, 'you can't?'"

"That's not what I said."

"Don't lie to me git."

"I'm not-"

"Alfred!"

Said blond rubbed his eyes stressfully before he muttered. "Arthur, can you please just help me? My situation is I want to be _friends_ with Italy and Germany is getting in my way."

The silence stretched as emotions passed through the Brit's face. At first he just glared suspiciously into Alfred's cerulean eyes, but the expression melted slowly into one of thoughtful concentration. Just when he was considering asking Matthew for advice instead, the smaller country piped up quite suddenly. "I think you should tell Italy about it."

America opened his mouth angrily but the bushy eyed blond beat him to it. "Italy has as much a say in this as you do, and that Germany listens to him." The blond hesitated before muttering softly. "At least I think he does. Should anyway; the bloody twit needs to lighten up."

He lifted his head confidently before Alfred could interrupt. "If this silent war goes on, then Italy will eventually find out anyway, and everyone gets hurt. Maybe you should talk to him at that party you're having." Arthur scowled. "You know, the Fourth of July." He spat.

At once, the American felt slightly guilty at the prospect of the American Revolution. He knew he had been in the right; Britain had no right to keep him locked away from the world, tax his people and push him around all his life; especially when they were worlds apart and the Englishman didn't even begin understand his situation. He had every right to separate from the country; England's boss at the time had taken advantage of him. As much as it hurt to leave his only relation (at the time, of course) he had to do it.

Alfred bowed his head and said gently. "You're invited too, you know."

"Well I'm not going you insufferable-!"

"England." He took one of the older nation's hands and looked him right in the eye. "This isn't me celebrating being away from you. This is I celebrating finally becoming my own nation."

His green eyes dropped scornfully to the floor. "Because you so desperately wanted to get away from me."

The blond American felt his blood begin to boil and he released Arthur's pale hand. "You know; I never blamed you for abusing me. But I feel like you have _always_ blamed me for wanting nothing more than to stand on my own two feet."

Britain's green eyes burned with malice and the larger nation could feel the oncoming argument on his tongue; but the American was having none of it. He turned on his heel and began to walk away. He didn't want to fight England on this particular subject; it broke his heart. Besides, the break was nearing over anyway and he wanted to have something in his stomach before being subjected to the long second half of the meeting.

...

The tension in the air was so thick; England could feel the weight of it crushing his very lungs. It wasn't just between him and Alfred either, he could feel the same sort of emotions radiating off a glaring Germany, an unusually distant Japan and- he really hesitated to say this, a rather down looking Italy.

Maybe the British nation was seeing things, but he could sense the Italian's discomfort. The brunette wasn't looking at America. Not that that was weird, but said nation was presenting some wild idea which usually captured Italy's full attention. True, maybe the acid eyed blond was seeing things, but if he didn't know any better he would say the little nation was avoiding Alfred's obvious staring gaze (of course the idiotic nation was staring, his crush on the older nation was too obvious if you asked him).

He could understand Japan and Germany (the German was angry for some barbaric reason, and he had obviously told his Asian friend as soon as he could) but Italy never held grudges, or generally got angry or spiteful. He scowled slightly; the American must have done something _really_ stupid to make the Italian so blatantly upset.

Arthur inwardly groaned. Great, now it was he who wanted advice. He gave the little brunette a quick glance. His heart squeezed with pity as he looked between the two crazy kids. He just knew this was some sort of huge misunderstanding, and these two idiots were going to run themselves into the ground before anything remotely interesting would actually happen.

England glanced back at America, aware the country was now rambling, the British nation could tell he was still trying to catch Italy's eye. _They really are hopeless._ He thought, shaking his head. Then a wave of sympathy swelled up in England's stomach. They were just two hopeless kids (despite the fact they were both completely able _country's_ for goodness sake!). Besides that, America's voice wouldn't stop playing in his head.

" _You know; I never blamed you for abusing me. But I feel like you have always blamed me for wanting nothing more than to stand on my own two feet."_

He sighed. Damn that American and his words. He sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

He wanted to help the two, he really did. _But I'm going to need some help._ He thought, he didn't have any real experience. Just what he knew from watching other tried, and failed relationships. He also (though he would never admit it out loud) had watched way too many soap operas in his time.

He looked around the room in a panic. He used to love being on his own, but all of a sudden he was finding it a huge problem. He needed someone who had real experience, someone who he at least knew beyond the occasional, and very formal 'good morning.' Someone who knew Italy and-

He almost forgot he was in a room full of respectable country's and only just held back a gasp of horror as he realized whom he needed to talk to. His worst and oldest enemy...

France.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The British nation felt dread fall like a weight in the pit of his stomach as he approached the longhaired Frenchman. He wasn't use to meddling in other people's love-lives like this.

So he decided to be as discreet as possible incase anyone else overheard them or something similar; the frog couldn't be that thick right? He wasn't stupid he would make it obvious what he was talking about. After all, there was only one pair he could possibly mean. And if the Fenchie was as in sync with 'the love of the world' as he claimed, there was no way he would misunderstand.

 _Yes_. He decided. _The frog can't possibly be that dense. This is right up his pointless alley._ A smug smirk crawled onto the Englishman's face as he approached the French country.

"What is this all about Iggy? You want my help with something?" The blond drawled in a very obnoxious French accent. "Something about, getting someone together?"

"Ah yes, you got my letter then." _So I was too embarrassed to ask him to meet me in person, sue me._ He thought bitterly, glaring at the obviously smug country. "A certain blond haired blue eyed dumbass and a little brunette, to be more specific."

"So you have finally come to your senses about something!" France cheered, but added rather rudely. "It is about time."

"Shove it frog!" Britain shouted, infuriated by the French nation's smug air. "We don't have all the time in the world you git."

"Ah ha! What did your devious self have in mind?" He cooed, leaning in uncomfortably close.

Thoroughly disgusted, the Englishman shoved Francis forcefully into the opposite wall. "Focus idiot!" He yelled, wiping his now tainted hands on his shirt and sitting down in front of a yellow legal pad. The British nation took out a pen and clicked the end.

France crawled back into his chair and huffed, resting his head on the palm of his hand. "You are no fun Iggy."

"Can it dumbass." England hissed looking down at the paper with a thoughtful gaze. "I say we start at the Fourth of July party that dimwit American is having." He said, writing the date down.

France squealed and clapped his hands together. "Perfect! The setting is-" He stood up dramatically making the acid eyed nation sigh in exasperation. "It is late, those over-the-top fireworks are playing in the background. Oh-!" he clapped his hands again even more frantically than before. "My sweet Italy is going to sweep that thick blond off his feet! Of course." He giggled. "After they have both been loosened up with some wine."

There was a pause as England considered, he didn't know if America would be tempted with something like wine on his big day. "How about something a little stronger?"

France shook his head. "No, the wine is more romantic. Besides, that muscle bound blond will do whatever my sweet little Italy says." He assured. "It runs in his blood, does it not?" He winked.

England scoffed. "You don't know America like I do. I doubt there will even be any wine."

"Yeah that is true." He sighed dramatically. "Very well, perhaps some-" He scoffed. "Beer would do. Then it will be the German to convince Italy to have some of that disgusting substance." He gagged theatrically.

Great Britain just rolled his eyes, wondering why France thought an intervention with Germany of all people would be a good idea since they were suppose to be alone. But, Germany liked beer, and they were friends he supposed. "I guess that could work…" He sighed. "Very well then." He wrote that down. "So, they are isolated just as the fireworks go off, slightly inebriated- damn that's so cliché." He muttered. "We have the setting. Now how do we initiate anything romantic?"

France scoffed. "Oh please, Italy and Germany have so much chemistry, all the idiots need is a little push in the right direction!"

England gaped. " _What?_ " He gasped. France was thick as he was gay! He leaned forward and smacked the back of Francis' head. "Idiot! We're trying to get _America_ and Italy together! Not him and that brutish nation!"

France gasped dramatically again. "No mon ami! Italy and Germany are made for one another!" The Frenchman's eyes brightened with that light that illuminated his blue eyes whenever he spoke of something gooey and romantic. "Italy is Germany's first and best friend! They swore to protect one another!" His voice lowered as he added. "But let us be honest here, it is Germany that will always be protecting Italy."

England scoffed. The Frenchman really was delusional. "Italy and Germany would fail the moment things got tough. Italy needs someone who will stand by and listen to him, not someone who will beat him when he gets drunk!"

France scowled. "You did not hear me Iggy. Germany may be tough when it comes to everyone else, but I guarantee he is a big teddy bear towards his friends and allies. They are in love! And love stands the test of time and turmoil!"

"Germany gets too frustrated with Italy and he never wants to hear him! America and Italy talk everyday!" England barked fiercely.

"They don't need to talk, Italy has much better things to be doing with that mouth!" France spat, advancing slightly on the English nation. "Besides, Germany is smart, two idiots together will only spell trouble!"

"Italy and Germany will annoy the hell out of each other!" England screamed, jabbing a finger at France's chest. "America would cherish Italy, and Italy would stay by America's side no matter what! They have similar interests-" He put out a finger after each thing he listed. "They both talk endlessly, they love food, they're lazy, they're enthusiastic- honestly the only difference between them is America has a strong military and loves to fight! He can protect Italy, and he doesn't have to be afraid of getting hurt!"

"What makes you think Germany would ever hurt Italy?" Francis yelled, his eyes blazing. "Italy has such a sweet little face, it's hard to imagine someone so close to him ever touching him!"

"Alright, you want to know why I think that Brute is going to do something wildly, dangerously, wrong?" England hissed, his eyes blazing as he went nose to nose with the snooty blond. "Because I, along with America, had to come to his rescue after he had been invaded by Germany whilst still his ally in World War II!"

France's eyes widened and he snarled. "That was years ago! We never hold that kind of thing against other country's because they go by the influence of their bosses and the people they represent!"

"And he is the embodiment of the people he represents! Or are you no longer afraid of Russia you pussy?" England snarled.

"And that right there, is why you have no friends!" The French nation screamed, sending Arthur reeling.

That was going one step too far and France knew it. England felt his face burn with both shame and anger. He wanted to tear the Frenchman a new one so bad, it physically hurt him to restrain his shaking fists.

France scoffed; though England could see the fear behind his blue eyes as he turned on his heel and slammed the door shut. Leaving the former empire in a condemning silence.

England took a deep breath as he stared at the piece of paper with disdain. He knew France had been his best (and probably only) shot for a partner in crime.

To make it worse, he had set the most romantic (though he would never flatter the smug Frenchman with such a stupid title) country on Earth against him in a set up he felt he could not, despite his pride, accomplish on his own.

 _You know what, screw working with someone else._ He thought bitterly. _It's like France said, even if he was talking about Germany and Italy, all the idiots need is one little push to get them rolling._ thought, satisfied with his conclusion.

He would get Italy and America together damn it!

All he needed to do was keep Italy away from Germany for the night. That couldn't be too hard, could it?

Oh who was he kidding? Talking to Germany, One of the most socially awkward countries out there. He would see right through him immediately. He groaned and clutched his messy, dirty blond locks. What had he gotten himself into?

...

England glared acidly at France, the memory of their last meeting still painfully fresh in his mind. It was the Fourth of July and the English country had made an appearance at Americas house. Currently, he was sitting out on the patio, staring the French nation down.

He had hated Francis for as long as he could remember, but he always thought there was a limit, a place neither of them would ever go. He silently fumed, that was a stupid assumption. The Frenchman hated him just as much as he hated France, with his stupid smirk and ridiculous clothes. Honestly it was a wonder anything in that ridiculous country ever got done.

That was why he was so determined to keep America and Italy alone tonight. It had turned into a sort of competition between the two. Who could get who together fastest. He realized when his thoughts had cleared up and he had calmed down that all he had to do was keep Germany busy all night (couldn't be that hard could it? He decided he could handle it) and Alfred and Feliciano would do fine on their own.

How _exactly_ he would do that was still in question. But he could at least try and distract the Germanic nation; he wasn't completely antisocial after all.

Despite that, he was still nervous. Things were a little tense between them ever since the war. He had, after all been quite a key part in taking Germany down. Then it dawned on him just how much it would suck to lose Italy to America again. _Poor bloke, but there's nothing to be done now is there? I am not backing down to that frog, and I care too much about America to make him miserable just to save Germany's feelings._ He didn't hate America, he just thought he was a little too stupid, lazy and cocky for his own good. He was a former colony after all, America represented his values and skill in a sense.

England watched from afar as said nation along with Japan and Italy arrived. Upon setting eyes on him, he realized there was one more person he could ask for help.

He waited for Alfred to cart Italy away and Germany to leave for a beer before he approached the black-haired country, rather cautiously tapping him on the shoulder. "I say do you fancy a walk Japan?"

"Mr. Britain?" Japan asked, confusion registering on his face. "Hello, was there something you wanted?" Japan asked his eyes widened from the request.

"Urm, yes. I need your help with something." He admitted; feeling a little embarrassed for being seen through so easily. "Could I talk to you?"

"Yes of course." The Japanese man dipped his head politely towards the British nation. England was humbled by this as they walked to a more private area of the deck.

"So, um." He leaned in close and lowered his voice, his eyes screwed up in concentration. "I'm trying to get Italy with someone, and I'm wanting your help."

Japan looked a little surprised. "You do? To whom is it you are trying to set him up with?"

"America." Japan's face quickly slipped from mildly shocked into unreadable as soon as England uttered that word. "And now the blasted France is set against me trying to get Italy and Germany together. I could really use some help."

Japan just nodded and said quietly. "What did you have in mind Mr. England?"

"Well, I think they will do find on their own. I just need to keep Germany otherwise occupied all night. Could you possibly help me with that?" England frowned as Japan looked as if he was considering, what was there to think about?

"I will try Mr. England. I do not think however that Germany will be completely distracted by idle chatter." He frowned, and thought a moment before he murmured. "I'm sure I could keep him distracted for a time, I suppose."

The British nation sighed throughly relieved. "Thanks Japan. We should get back, Alfred is almost finished with those bloody burgers and I don't want to know what America will do in order to get us to eat one."

Japan just nodded before muttering under his breath, unbeknownst to England. "By the end of the night it will be Italy and Germany together. You can be certain of that Mr. England." And followed without comment back onto the deck.

...

America tapped his foot impatiently on the wooden floor of his deck. Maybe this would be a little creepy, but he was really hoping Italy would arrive soon. He was a little worried when none of his calls were returned and he silently hoped the Mediterranean nation wasn't avoiding him.

His eyes narrowed as he thought that Italy would probably be arriving with Germany. Of course, by inviting Italy and Japan he had to invite Germany as well. He was sure of course Italy had probably begged the German to come and it would have been rude not to invite him anyway.

Alfred took a deep breath and tried to get Ludwig out of his head. The Germanic nation gave the American a headache just thinking about him. But if it made Italy's night (which he knew it would, Germany was for some reason the nation's best friend) then he would do it. He wanted the party to be perfect for everyone, not just himself.

He jumped when he heard someone knock on his front door. The blond walked back into the house and opened the door, an uncontrollable smile on his face as the door revealed Italy, Germany and Japan.

"Alfred!" Italy squeaked, jumping into the American's waiting arms.

"Feli!" America cried, pulling the Italian into a tight bear hug. He came to expect being greeted with a hug whenever he saw Italy. "How are you? It's been like, two days dude!" He felt the brunette just nod against his chest and loosen his grip on the blonde's shoulders.

This, however only served to make Alfred hold on a little tighter. It seemed like it had been way too long since he had seen the little country; he missed him.

This awkward struggle continued for another few seconds until Germany coughed and Japan said, rather cautiously "How about you show Mr. America what you brought Italy?"

"Oh yeah!" Italy pulled away, revealing a glaring Germany and very nervous looking Japan.

Italy reappeared, beaming and holding out a rather sloppily wrapped rectangular gift. "Happy Birthday America!"

The American country gawked as he looked down upon the gift. "Feli, you really didn't have to." He breathed, looking into the country's chocolate eyes with adoration.

He just giggled and yelled. "Open it open it!" The American complied ripping off the bright red paper. He looked down at the gift in awe.

The blond beamed as he realized that Italy had in fact, painted the American a rather lovely picture. It portrayed a bald eagle facing the onlooker, its wings were spread wide across the campus in a rather harmonious red, white and blue explosion. At the center of the eagle's chest was a bright red heart that gave the entire piece life. It's eyes were golden, despite its blue head and white-star pattern. Its wings were a familiar striped red and white pattern while along with its legs. It's feet were yellow and talons were simply black, but its body was red and blue.

It was one of the coolest paintings America had ever seen. He stared at it, his mouth agape. He hadn't asked anyone to get him anything, he didn't really expect it. "F-Feli, this is amazing!" He enveloped the Italian in a one-armed bear hug, gratitude towards the older nation swelling in his chest. He carefully put the painting down. "I love it!"

Germany slammed down the two packs of beer he had brought, rather loudly on the floor causing Italy to jump right out of the American's grasp. "Oh! It was just you Germany!" Italy sighed, clutching at his heart in relief. "You scared me!"

Germany coughed awkwardly before gesturing to the beer on the ground. "I brought beer."

Japan nodded silently and Italy smiled politely, clapping his hands together. "That was nice of you Germany!"

The blond just nodded and America determined not to let the moment become awkward forced a smile onto his face saying. "Awesome dude. I'll show you to the deck. We are putting on a pretty sweet BBQ out there dude!"

He grabbed the painting and led the trio onto the porch. The evening air was warm, but there was a nice breeze flowing around and a few country's were chatting it up. "I'm just gonna go put this in my room, you guys have fun!" He showed them where the drinks and food were before trotting up to his room to put the picture out of harm's way for the night.

He strode back out onto the deck, excited to show Italy his kick-ass grilling skills. The American nation grinned as he walked back out into the evening air. His eyes automatically sought out for Italy.

He headed purposefully towards said country and called happily. "Feli! Hey dude, I want to show you how I make burgers!" And casually slung an arm around the Italian's shoulders. "It'll be awesome bro!"

"Ok!" Italy beamed, following the blond towards the barbecue.

Alfred proceeded to show Italy how to grill the American food, and even convinced Feliciano to try one. Which much to the American's delight, the Italian nation found he didn't hate the circular food.

He grinned as Italy began another rant about food while they were all sitting down for dinner. The smaller country sat himself in between Alfred and Ludwig, happily chatting between the two; oblivious to the glares being exchanged by the two blonds.

Alfred was very pleased when he realized he managed to keep Italy's attention for most of the night despite Germany being there and he was even more excited to drag the smaller country off to a spot close to the fireworks. He wanted to see the look of wonder on the older country's face when his kick-ass fireworks went off.

"Dude! You are going to love this! My fireworks are always the best especially today! This is going to be so-"

"Excuse me Italia, I am sorry to interrupt, but Mr. Germany would like to see you right now." He looked apologetically at America before turning back to Italy. "He claims it is urgent."

"Ve, ok Japan!" Italy turned and gave Alfred a quick hug. "I'll be right back ok?" America forced a smile, secretly hating the Blond for the interruption, hoping Ludwig would be quick.

"Of course dude. It's fine." He waved as Italy followed Japan back into the crowd of countries.

Although Alfred had been hoping Germany would be quick, it had been nearly fifteen minutes and the fireworks were about to start. He felt himself fume as he realized the brunette's absence was once again Germany's fault.

He had considered England's advice a lot over the past few days, especially with Feliciano's distance lately. He desperately wanted things to be normal, preferably without Germany breathing down his neck every five minutes.

He huffed angrily. "Where the heck are they, anyway?"

He walked up to a familiar black haired, Asian country and tapped on his shoulder. "Oh, Hello Mr. America. What is it?" Japan asked politely.

"I just-" he huffed, frustrated. "Do you know where Italy is? I really want to watch the fireworks with him and I don't know where he is."

The Japanese man just shrugged. "Last time I saw him, he was with Mr. Germany. But Mr. America." Japan grabbed his sleeve, cutting him off before he could say anything. "Mr. Germany and Italia are very close, and Mr. Germany has hardly seen him all night. I do not think it would be wise to take Italia off somewhere again. It would be fairly rude."

Alfred frowned. Something about that didn't sit right with the American. "But I wanted to watch the fireworks with him." He whined, giving the Japanese nation his sad face. "I've been looking forward to it all night.

"You and Italia have been together all night. Perhaps it is time to let Italia and Germany have a moment together." Japan said reasonably, patting the blonde's shoulder.

America was still uneasy. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He was the hero dang it and he needed to know if his awesome party was going to get ruined!

Finally, he turned the corner to one of the most abandoned places of his deck and saw a familiar curl along with an equally familiar blond. They were facing each other. Alfred opened his mouth the say something when-

"Italy." The brunette turned to Germany with a small smile. That took America aback. He didn't think he'd ever seen Germany like that before.

Italy hummed beaming up at the larger nation. "Yes?"

"I just- I want you to know that no matter what I am here for you. I will always be by your side even in the darkest of times. You are my best and first friend Feli. I'll never forget that."

The little country's face broke out into an even wider smile but before he could say anything Germany cupped Italy's cheek with his hand and looked him dead in the eye. Feli's eyes widened as Ludwig's arm snaked around his waist. His eyes slid shut and pulled Feliciano into a deep kiss.

And America's heartstrings pulled painfully as he watched, horrified. It took his a moment to realize this feeling in his chest, what he had been feeling all this time...

 _I'm in love with Italy..._


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

There was a huge pop as the very first of the fireworks went off, and Alfred realized he couldn't bear to stay there a moment longer. He couldn't watch Italy kiss Germany while something as romantic as fireworks went off in the background. He couldn't watch Italy return the German's affections with love in his eyes.

He held back a sob, and ran off before the scene in his head could unfold, not realizing there was tears in his eyes until they were rolling rapidly down his cheeks illuminated by the bright fireworks. He rounded the corner and took off his glasses, rubbed his red eyes, and leaned against the house.

A particularly loud cry of awe woke him from his stupor. He needed to get that image out of his head. His leg brushed up against something and a loud clinking echo beneath him he looked down at a six-pack of beer. Alcohol was as good a way as any to forget.

...

America laughed obnoxiously, beer drizzling down his chin. The drunk blond yelled obnoxiously to no one in particular. "Dude! This was like… a really awesome party. I jus…" Alfred's eyes narrowed as he saw Germany walking towards him, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

He glared aggressively at Germany as he approached him. "Hello Germany." He said with forced drunken enthusiasm. "Are you enjoying yourself?" He accused.

The Germanic nation's eyes narrowed and his crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I thought I asked you to stay _away_ from Italy. He tells me that the two of you have been close these past few weeks." He growled, taking an intimidating step closer.

"Can you like, not do this right now?" Alfred slurred, his cerulean eyes screaming murder. "I can hang around with Italy all I like dingus." He took a shaky step closer to Ludwig, accusation clear in his eyes. "Unless you think you somehow have authority over him. Admit it Germany, you've invaded Italy, haven't you?" he snapped, new courage found in the alcohol now burning through his system.

This sent the German country reeling back. "Excuse me?" He exclaimed, causing a few eyes to snap at attention.

"You heard me." Alfred's eyes burned. "Are you threatening Italy? That's why you don't want me around him isn't it?" Germany's jaw tightened. His fists shook at his sides as his face turned bright red in anger.

Ludwig opened his mouth angrily, but before any sound uttered America's fist connected with his jaw. Germany's head snapped back from the force of America's fist. The cerulean eyed-blond stumbled forward on his uncoordinated feet. "Ass!" He yelled, as the Germanic nation looked up, his eyes burning and a hand on his now bruising jaw.

"Why you little" the German leaped into the air and his fist connected with the American's face. The American felt blood begin to drip down his face like a faucet. He gripped the front of Germany's shirt and planted his elbow in his stomach.

At once, every surrounding country began shouting and crowding the two blonds. America and Germany were both locked in a violent fistfight. After what felt like an eternity of throwing blow after blow, Alfred felt someone lock his or her arms around his middle and tug him insistently backwards. He yelled as he was ripped from the other blue-eyed nation. He bucked against whoever's arms were restraining him.

He noticed someone else wrap his or her arms around Germany and pull him backwards. They were still dangerously close, so much so that America leaned back, about to throw everything he had into one last punch just before another figure obscured his view of the other struggling nation, severing any chance of contact between the two. It took him a moment in his state to realize it was Italy standing in between them, shaking like a leaf. He stopped struggling and looked up towards Italy's face but his head was turned towards Germany.

Italy's head began to swivel between the two as he yelled. "Stop! Please stop fighting!"

Both country's stopped struggling in their captor's grasps. Everyone was shocked into absolute silence due to one of the most cowardly countries standing in between two of the strongest nations. Everyone was completely still, as if the moment would shatter if someone breathed too hard.

Once everyone was equal-tempered (whether by choice or by shock) Italy turned walked calmly towards Germany, helped him to his feet and into the house. There was an awkward silence in which nobody knew what to do or what was happening until Italy reappeared and walked towards Alfred.

The blond looked him desperately in the eye, but the brunette wasn't back looking at him. He had a faraway look in his gaze, as if he was preoccupied. The American country felt guilt prick his gut as Feliciano took Alfred by the hands and helped him to his feet. The blond looked around. All eyes were on him and he found that it was England who had been restraining him. The dirty blond Englishman gave him a scolding look before Alfred was led off by Italy into his house.

Italy took America by the hand and walked into the hallway on the right. The blond still swaying slightly from the alcohol. Italy led a still stunned America to his bathroom. He gently sat him down on the toilet, still not looking at him.

The brunette's grip reinforced itself on Alfred's hands and finally their eyes locked. "Alfred." He said gently, his chocolate eyes full of concern. America felt a weight settle in his stomach, anticipating Italy to ask why it was he had attacked his best friend and most likely his new boyfriend.

So he was completely unprepared he was for what he actually said. "Are you ok?" His eyes widened, but he quickly recovered and silently nodded. "Ok, I'm going to check on Germany and then I'm going to come back and clean you up. Ok?"

He nodded again as the brunette gently let go of his hands and quietly closed the door behind him. It felt like years he was sitting alone in the bathroom, feeling like a complete ass. He gripped the back of his neck and growled, frustrated. He felt awful for attacking what must have been Feliciano's new boyfriend.

He felt half relieved, half miserable when Italy walked back through the door and strode over to the sink. The brunette wet a washcloth and turned towards Alfred, a determined look on his face as he leaned closer to the American.

The cerulean-eyed country made no protests as Feli began gently washing the blood and beer off his face. Italy seemed completely concentrated on what he was doing. Meanwhile America was looking the Italian country directly in his chocolate eyes, entranced by the concentrated look swimming within them.

America grabbed Italy's arm as the country pulled back to wash the dirty cloth. He blushed as he pulled the brunette towards him, desperately wanting Feli closer. The brunette set down the still wet cloth and looked down; but Alfred wasn't having any of it. He took the Italian by the chin and tilted his head up. "Look at me." He whispered, seeing the Italian nation's eyes flicker up to stare into his own.

Italy gasped as America pulled him into his lap and tilted his head up to plant an open mouthed kiss on Italy's lips. Alfred swallowed Feli's shocked cry and used this opportunity to slide his tongue in the brunette's mouth. Italy stood rigid as the American kissed him passionately. After a few more moments in the American's arms he whimpered and pulled away. His head tilted down, his hair acting as a veil over his face as he murmured. "Why did you do that?"

Alfred's hand slid into Feliciano's auburn hair at the back of his head. "Italy, can you look at me please?" He repeated.

"How do I know you won't kiss me again?" Italy's voice was shaking. That stung, but Alfred was determined as he once again tilted the brunette's head up. Italy's watery eyes met his cerulean and America cupped his cheek.

"I think I'm in love with you." Italy's chocolate eyes swelled with unreadable emotion swimming in his illustrious orbs. The Mediterranean nation, however, just nodded and slid out of the American's lap, tears swimming in his huge eyes.

"I have to go America." The Mediterranean nation whispered and quickly retreated from the room. Alfred whimpered as Italy left him alone to drown in his guilt.

...

Alfred groaned, holding his throbbing head in his hand as he opened his rapidly watering eyes against the blinding sun. His whole body was also still aching from his scrape with Germany last night, but it didn't hold a candle to his still painful hangover. Beneath him were was his familiar leather couch. How he had gotten there was far beyond him at this point.

He sat up and groped blindly around for his missing glasses on the coffee table beside him. He yelped as someone yelled, rather too loudly into his ear. "What the bloody hell did your dumbass do last night America!" England's shrill voice pierced through Alfred's ears like a thousand knives.

"Dude, just shhhhh!" America hissed softly, pressing his palms into his ears to muffle the Englishman's voice. "Too fuckin' loud bro."

England smacked the blond upside the head causing his head even more throbbing pain. He yelped again as Great Britain yelled. "What did you do you bloody idiot! I leave you alone for five minutes and you ruin my entire plan, get blind-ass drunk and start a fight with Germany! Must you insist upon befouling everything that I do even when I'm just trying to help you?" Alfred looked up with confused and pained blue eyes.

"What are you talking about Iggy?" He breathed, placing a hand on his throbbing forehead. " _I_ don't even know what happened yesterday. I thought it would be you who could tell me that."

"Hey guys, how about we all just have some pancakes and calm down eh?" a soft voice called.

Alfred glanced towards the sound and smiled happily despite the pain still throbbing throughout his head. "Mattie! When did you get here bro?"

Canada frowned, his violet eyes filling with hurt. "I got here last night. I helped out with dinner and set the table." America somehow managed to feel about ten times worse. He hated it when he didn't notice his little brother and it always stung to know he had missed a moment, any moment with his younger twin.

"I-I'm so sorry Matthew. I was really distracted last night and I did a lot of stupid stuff and-" He rambled, desperate for the Canadian to understand.

"Oh it's ok Al! Don't worry aboot it eh. I could see you were-" he giggled, rather girlishly. "Preoccupied most of the night." England scoffed, shattering the moment.

"You dumbass. You blew everything out of the water! I can't believe your stupidity Alfred!" He glared dangerously down at the now cowering nation. "Tell me why Italy left this house looking like you murdered a litter of kittens, and why you thought it was just a brilliant idea to go and get in a fist fight with Germany!"

"I-I." Alfred stuttered, trying to remember through the haze of pain clouding his memory. An image of him pulling Italy forward and kissing him entered America's mind, and it all came back to him. "Oh! I remember now- Ugh, I'm such a jackass." He muttered.

"Aww Alfred, don't be too hard on yourself." Canada soothed, walking back in with a stack of buttered pancakes, a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. "Have some breakfast and calm down." America smiled and took the stack from his little brother along with the glass and bottle.

"Thanks Matt." He sighed, gratitude filling his chest like calm water as he swallowed the pills and downed the glass of water.

"You're welcome." The Canadian nation smiled at his older brother and England sighed, collapsing down in a nearby chair.

"Just tell me what you did already idiot!" England shouted as Canada left the room for more pancakes. "Everything was going fine until-"

"Until Germany kissed Italy during the fireworks." Alfred sighed, surprising himself by how calm he sounded.

England reeled back, his acid eyes widening with shock. "What? Tell me everything you bloody wanker." He snapped, recovering quickly as the Canadian nation walked back through into the living room with two more huge stacks of pancakes.

"What are we talking aboot eh?" He asked, putting one of the stacks of pancakes in front of the British country.

England thanked the Canadian before commenting. "America fucked up big time last night with his crush-"

"Italy, right? You two are so cute together." Canada cooed, making the American feel even guiltier. "Oh! I'm so sorry Britain! Please continue."

England waved it off and gestured back towards America. "That's quite alright Matthew. Alfred, do tell us all about what happened." He said, throughly vexed.

Said nation glared and accused, in a rather high-pitched voice. "What did you mean by 'I ruined your entire plan'?"

Great Britain looked away and said casually. "I was just, oh you know. Keeping Germany preoccupied all night so you could have the night alone with Italy." America gawked, and Canada gasped, but before either could fully recover from their shock at the other nation's audacity, he plowed on. "But of course you did something to screw it up. So do tell how you managed it."

Alfred glared, coughed and began slowly explaining the night beginning to end. At first of course, it was almost cheesy in how romantic the night had begun. The two had talked almost all night and Alfred had stars in his eyes as he described how easy talking with the little brunette was. Mattie gave many breathless 'aw's while Britain rolled his eyes, mirth carefully hidden in his eyes.

But a scowl formed on the American's handsome features as he told them about Japan telling Italy that Germany needed to see him. At this point the former empire jumped to his feet, abandoning his half-eaten pancakes, and yelled. "Blast it! So this is his fault!"

Alfred blinked. "What are you talking about?"

America's former relation huffed and crossed his arms angrily across his chest before spitting. "I asked for Japan's help to get you and Italy together. That bloody git must've been working against me the whole damn time!"

Canada choked on his pancakes and said, shocked. "You got Japan in on this?"

"Of course. I needed help and he was Alfred's friend so I figured-"

"Oh my gosh, stop interfering with my life already!" America yelled shrilly, his face going bright red with embarrassment. "I don't need help with this!"

England laughed bitterly. "You idiot. Of course you need my help. You are in denial and Italy is a country that is simply not going to stay single forever. Besides it worked didn't it? Everything was going alright until-"

"Until Germany kissed Italy." Canada gasped and Britain nodded.

"Yes, you were mentioning that earlier. What the hell did you do?" the Brit said, his acid eyes boring into America. "I thought the night was going well."

The American nation went on to explain how he had wanted to watch the fireworks with Italy (receiving many squeals from his younger brother which only made him more embarrassed) and had gone off to look for him after he left. He scowled as he told Canada and England about him walking in on a kiss, and about him turning to drinking to try and scrub the image from his mind.

This caused tears to form in Matthew's eyes and he reached for his older twin's hand saying softly. "Alfred, you really shouldn't drink when you're so upset eh. Nothing good ever comes from it, and it makes you really scary."

America flushed red with guilt as the Canadian nation let his hand go. He was starting to feel like absolute shit right about then when Britain sighed and said softly. "I understand Alfred. Just tell us what happened after Italy took you both outside."

The American looked up at the British nation, shocked by his understanding tone. Pain dulled his cerulean orbs as he recalled what happened next. "He took me to the bathroom to get me cleaned up a bit and check up on me. Of course-" He snorted bitterly. "he checked on Germany first."

Canada could sense America's mood and said rather reasonably. "Well of course he would. You up and attacked him out of nowhere. I'm surprised he didn't start screaming at you right then and there."

Alfred's fist's shook at his sides and he took an angry bite from his pancakes. He knew the Canadian was right, but he didn't feel any less angry about it. "Yeah, he got all the blood off me then," He took a deep breath, preparing for the onslaught. "I kissed him."

Both countries at once began protesting loudly, neither heard over the others noise. Alfred desperately covered his ears, his lingering hangover causing him to cringe but he yelled as loud as he could. "I was drunk ok!" The two blondes stopped talking and instead glared identically at America. "I was hurt and I wanted his attention. He was right there and I couldn't help myself I kinda." He took another deep, praying he would be spared too much criticism. "Told him I might have been in love with him."

Alfred clapped his hands over his ears as both Matthew and Arthur began berating the American for his stupidity. He cried over the two blondes' yells. "I'm sorry! I know I'm being an ass!" Canada's yells ceased, and Great Britain scoffed angrily, but fell silent as the American went on. "But I just had, a super shitty night and I don't need this right now. Can I just eat my food and have a few minutes to myself?"

Canada's violet eyes widened and filled with tears while Britain just snorted and crossed his arms across his chest. "I'm so sorry Al!" The blond Canadian leaned in and hugged his older brother. Alfred sighed, and relaxed into the younger nation's embrace.

"Whatever. You can't run away from your problems forever wanker." England muttered, taking another bite of his pancakes as America parted from Canada to send Britain a scathing glare. "And don't look at me like that Yank, it's your life that's messed up not mine."

The American nation just rolled his eyes and the trio all turned back to their pancakes in silence. America sighed silently cursing the awkwardness he had created in what had been a friendly atmosphere.

 **(AN):**

 **Happy Fourth of July! I thought it would be fitting to post something a little early as a little Fourth of July gift. Happy Birthday Al!**

 **Thank you guys so much for all the lovely reviews! It means so much! :D**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Feliciano groaned as a knock interrupted his rather uneasy sleep. "Veneziano! Get your lazy ass up for breakfast before I kick you half-way back to that German bastard's house!" The door opened and Italy 'oofed' as Romano strode over, plopped down next to him and elbowed his younger brother in the ribs.

"Ve, I'm coming Fratello, just let me get dressed and I'll come downstairs ok?" The Italian soothed tiredly, rubbing his bloodshot eyes with his wrists.

The hazel-eyed nation scowled and poked his brother in the cheek. "You said that the last two times I've come up here idiot!" he snapped, pinching the northern country on the upper arm, causing him to yelp. "Wake up, and get downstairs. If I don't see you in five minutes, I'm coming back up here with a bucket of ice water!"

Northern Italy flinched as Southern Italy slammed the door shut, causing the little country to sigh, exasperated. He honestly just wanted to hide under his warm blankets and not come out until he had a reasonable grasp on his situation. But he knew from experience that Lovino wasn't kidding. He forced himself out of bed and into the bathroom.

"Finally!" Romano sighed, as his younger brother walked into the kitchen a few minutes later again rubbing his watery eyes. "Now sit down and eat." He ordered.

"Good morning fratello! Good morning Spain!" Italy sang with forced cheerfulness as he dragged his wrists from his eyes and both countries came into view. He didn't ever ask Romano why the Spanish nation was over so much. In his opinion his older brother's crush on Spain was all too obvious. But it wasn't as if Spain was doing a lot to hide his little crush on his brother either, he was honestly surprised neither had caught onto the other yet.

"Morning Italia!" Spain called, smiling over his cup of coffee while Romano just grunted angrily. "Coffee?" he offered politely.

The chocolate eyed Italian plopped down in a chair next to his brother and cheerfully brushed it aside, grabbing a piece of toast from the table. Roma offered him a plate of food, but he declined resigning himself to his single piece of bread. Antonio and Lovino exchanged a glance. Spain coughed and turned back to Italy asking worriedly. "Are you alright Feliciano?"

The Italian stopped just short of taking a bite of his toast, his mouth hanging awkwardly open as he stared at the emerald eyed Spaniard. He slowly closed his mouth and put his piece of bread down forcing a smile onto his face. "Of course, why would you think anything is wrong?"

His older brother scoffed. "Because you came home last night looking like you'd seen a ghost, and you wouldn't even get up for breakfast this morning! You just turned down breakfast Feliciano!"

That was true; the Italian had a bad habit of not eating when he was really upset. It had begun when Holy Rome left, and it had proven to be quite a dangerous tic. Romano, in all his years with Italy still had yet to break it.

"Oh, I'm just still tired that's all. There was plenty of food at the barbecue last night and I'm still really sleepy." He yawned for affect but his older brother was not at all convinced, it was Spain however who spoke up.

"France told me something big went down at that party you went to. That there was a fight, I think." He said slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Do you know anything about that?"

Lovino gasped and yelled. "What the hell?!" While Feliciano just looked away nervously. _Damn France and his gossip._ The boy thought, nervously glancing up as his fuming brother. "Tell me what the hell happened now idiot!" he snapped, grabbing his little brother's wrist.

"I-I uh-" he stuttered, looking desperately at Antonio for help.

However the Spaniard was being almost as stubborn as Romano and leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm. "Italia." Said country swallowed nervously. "What happened? You weren't involved were you-?"

Romano let go of his brother and smacked the Spanish nation upside the head. "Of course he wasn't involved dumbass!" He snapped, turning his burning green eyes on his younger sibling. "So tell me what happened bastard!"

Italy took a deep breath and closed his chocolate eyes trying desperately to keep the tears away as memories of last night flashed before his eyes. He felt like one of the cruelest kind of people in the world at the moment, and he didn't like dumping his personal problems on his brother after the whole Holy Roman Empire ordeal.

"Is asking you not to make me answer that too much to ask?" Spain and Romano looked at each other with wide eyes. What had Italy so upset? "What's wrong Feli?" Antonio asked gently, but Romano took a less delicate approach.

"Feliciano Vargas if you don't tell me what happened right now I am forbidding you from leaving this house and I will refuse to let you see the potato bastard ever again!" Antonio put a calming hand on the angry Romano as silent tears began streaming down his younger brother's face.

"It's alright my little tomato, calm down-"

"No way!" Lovino screamed, his face going bright red and he added, "Get your hands off of me idiot!" The Spanish nation reluctantly complied. Roma turned back to his younger brother, pointing a condemning finger at his shaking twin. "You!" His little brother squeaked and cowered under his brother's intense gaze. "Start talking!"

And so, the little Italian launched into the beginning of the night. His description of the first few hours of the night caused Spain to 'coo' and 'aww', Lovino scowled. Italy pretended not to notice as he plowed on until he reached the fireworks and his mouth just stopped moving. He couldn't bring himself to state what happened after he met up with Germany.

"Well, go on Vene!" Spain encouraged, a big smile on his face now. "I like where this is going." He whispered excitedly making Southern Italy pull a disgusted face.

Italy prepared himself for the worst. "Germany called me over and-and the fireworks went off and-and-" Italy felt himself tear up at the memory. "Germany kissed me-"

Lovino's eyes widened and he screamed angrily. "What did he do? It's him who has you so upset isn't he? I'll kill him!" Antonio grabbed the younger nation the arms as he dove for the stairs. "I'm getting my gun! Let me go you stupid-!"

"Romano!" He barked commandingly, giving the country an insistent tug. This caused the Italian to fall to the ground at the Spaniard's feet. "Let your brother finish." His voice was unusually stern. Antonio was surprisingly scary when he was angry. "Go on, Vene." He repeated calmly as Romano got angrily to his feet, glaring at Spain as he retook his seat.

The auburn haired Italian nodded almost fearfully and went on hesitantly. "I-I just- I mean, he kissed me and I just-" He took a deep breath to steady his shaking and get his tears under control. "I just walked away, I'm so confused right now." He tried to explain, looking into Spain's concerned eyes. "About a week ago I was head-over-heels for America. But then I overheard him talking to England and there's just no way he could ever like me and now-" He wiped the tears from his cheeks and sobbed. "I just don't know. I can't do anything with Germany if I still have feelings for America. It wouldn't be fair. I'm still getting over him, I think."

Miraculously neither country said anything as Italy took another shaky breath and went on. "Next thing I know, America is drunk and him and Germany are at each other's throats-" He hiccupped. "I asked Germany, but he just said that America started accusing him of things and they just-" He wiped the now streaming tears from his cheeks once again and continued. "Started hurting each other."

He dreaded saying what happened next, it only confused him more and he had no idea how the other Mediterranean nations would react. Both of them were looking at him with wide eyes paying very close attention. "I just wanted to help. It was America's birthday, so I tried to help patch him up and he just-"

"Did that idiot touch you?" Romano burst, shattering Feliciano's train of thought.

"What? No! That's not what happened exactly…" Both nations leaned in in perfect sync, waiting for the brunette to continue. "But he-" Italy sent a quick prayer, and said hoping his brother wouldn't do something rash. "America kissed me and kinda said that… He might have been in love with me."

The pregnant silence seemed to stretch on forever, the moment simply refused to end as Feliciano squeezed his eyes shut and clutched his fists against his chest, waiting anxiously for a reaction. Eventually, Romano silently got up and walked upstairs. Spain was too busy gaping in shock to notice.

Italy watched his brother leave, confused and a little hurt. Antonio recovered from his shock first, his eyes still huge, and leaned in whispering. "Feliciano, oh my gosh, are you alright-? Romano!"

Italy looked up at the Southern nation gasping in horror as he saw Lovino was holding his shotgun. "Fratello! What are you-?"

"I'm on my way to kill the two bastards who touched my little brother!" He yelled, pulling his gun out of reach as Spain grabbed for the firearm. "Go away asshole! This is the second, and third time my brother has had his heartbroken by some, blond haired, blue eyed bastard! Out of my way!" He screamed as he tried to push the insistent Spaniard away.

"Romano, you are going to give me this gun right now!" He yelled, finally getting his hands on the firearm, ripping it from the younger nation's arms. The Spaniard threw the shotgun onto the hardwood floor. "Sit down!" he ordered, shoving the Southern nation back into a chair.

Italy shrunk back, shaking as the Spanish country sat back down, his older brother glaring savagely at the older country as he turned back to the youngest of the three and reached across the table, giving him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "What are you going to do?"

Italy rubbed the tears from his eyes. "I don't know! I feel like the worst friend in the world!" He sighed, burying his face in his hands.

Spain whined. "What? Italy-"

"No, I'm the worst, friend ever!" Him whimpered, feeling the words spill from his mouth without his consent. "At first, I had this huge crush on Alfred." He began, not able to stop himself as he poured on. "So we started hanging out and I started bailing on Germany." He sighed. Rubbing his watery eyes. "And then I heard America say, we were just friends and he's apparently-"

Italy took a shaky breath before pouring on. "Not like that, so, I stopped talking to him as often and then-" Spain and Romano exchanged a worried look before turning back to Italy. "Yesterday happened and now I'm so confused about everything he said. I thought it over all night and I realized that I'm being selfish. I keep leading people on and apparently my stupid little crushes are more important to me than my friends. And now I have to break both of their hearts because I just-" He wiped more tears away and took a deep breath. "I can't choose one of them over the other. And that's even more selfish, but I just- I can't-"

Romano got up and stopped him with a hug. Italy was still with shock for a moment before he hugged him back gratefully; Italy buried his face in his brother's chest and sobbed. The younger nation was so grateful for his brother at that moment, he clutched at him and buried his head in Romano's shoulder.

Things would turn out.

 **(AN):**

 **Ah I'm sorry this chapter is so short! I promise the next one will be a little longer to make up for it, K?**

 **Thank's for all the wonderful reviews! You guys are the best! :D**

 **Love ya~ 3**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Arthur left America's house right after breakfast, telling the American to call him if anything new happened. Alfred wasn't sure whether to be touched, or pissed off by how much the Englishman was interfering with his life. So he just thanked England and let him leave. Canada however had decided to stick around the rest of the day at least to help keep him company. Alfred was grateful; he didn't want to be alone with just his thoughts that night.

Both blonds were sitting in America's living room, Canada was reading a book on one of the many cushy armchairs while his American counterpart was playing one of Japan's hand-held game systems on the couch.

"So are you staying the night Matt, or-?" Alfred asked hesitantly, not looking up from his screen He felt guilty and somehow even food wasn't keeping him distracted. He didn't want to be left all on his own, and his brother, for all the weird things he did, was good company.

The younger blond looked up from his book with wide violet eyes. "Oh I wouldn't want to impose-"

"You wouldn't be imposing!" He insisted, putting down his own form of entertainment. "I was just wondering, I mean if you want to it would be totally fine bro. I haven't seen you in a while after all…"

The Canadian looked worriedly at his brother as the blue-eyed nation rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Are you sure you're ok Al? Do you want to talk about it-?"

"No!" the violet-eyed blond flinched as his boisterous older brother jumped to his feet. "I just want to forget it ever happened!" He sighed and ran a finger through his blond locks. "I made a huge mistake…"

"Well," The Canadian began, scooting closer to the American nation. "Forgetting about it isn't going to fix it, eh?" Alfred huffed but Matthew went on unabashed. He was far to use to the American's attitude to let it bother him too much anymore. "You need to talk this out with Italy and Germany-"

"There is no way I am facing the _happy couple_ again!" He screamed, causing the younger nation to flinch at the sudden rise in volume. Alfred felt guilt spike his stomach, but he was too stubborn to back down. "Italy," he took a step closer. "Was happy kissing Germany." He hissed and Canada frowned.

"If you haven't talked to him, how do you know?" Alfred felt his blood boil and he took an angry step forward. But Matthew didn't bat an eyelash.

"How aboot this eh," The Canadian said calmly, getting up from his chair and putting his hands on his older brother's shoulders. "If you promise to talk to Italy, I promise I'll stick around until this whole mess is all sorted out. ok?" Alfred opened his mouth but the Northern nation interrupted. "You're being unreasonable Al. You kissed Italy, now you have to face him. Besides, how do you know he's not into you?"

"Because he pulled away from me and ran off-"

"You were drunk, had just beaten up his best friend, and your first kiss was in the bathroom after he patched you up from a fight. How do you know he didn't do the same thing to Germany?" America was taken aback by how insistent his brother was being on this subject.

"Why do you care so much?" He shouted, and Canada groaned.

"Because England is right eh. This isn't hard Al, it'll be a little awkward and maybe a bit painful, but it'll be worse if you just let it fester. Besides," He smiled warmly. "You're my brother, I don't like watching you get hurt."

The American sighed; he couldn't refuse his brother when he played the 'I'm just worried about you' card. "Alright, I'm taking you up on that deal."

The younger nation's smile widened and he hugged his older brother. "Thank you Al. I promise you won't regret this eh."

A few hours later, the phone rang out in the now deathly quiet house. It had been a tad tense between the two blonds for the past few hours, so it was Canada who answered. "Hello?" The Canadian said softly, as his American counterpart walked into the room rather conspicuously.

"Hello, America? This is Italy. I really need to talk to you." Canada's eyes widened and he glanced nervously at his older brother. Alfred had his back to the younger nation filling a glass with Coke Cola. The American country had agreed to talk to Italy but he still wasn't sure how he would react to talking to the Italian again. Would he be angry?

"I'm sorry, this isn't America, it's Canada." He said in his soothingly soft voice, causing the American nation to turn around and face the younger blond. "Do you want me to put America on the line for you?"

Alfred whispered. "Who is it?"

"Canada? Oh I'm so sorry! Ve, what are you doing at America's?" He asked, genuinely curious.

"Oh I come over here sometimes. It gets a little lonely over here on the Western side of the world. Besides, he's my older brother. It's nice to hang out over now and again without someone forgetting about me." Wow, that sounded more depressing than he had meant it too.

"Aw Canada," Italy sounded devastated. "I'm so sorry! It must be really hard on you-"

The Canadian strained to hear the rest as Alfred hissed. "Bro, who is it?" His eyes widened considerably and he took a step closer. "Is it my boss? What does he want?" His brother's voice was getting louder as he took a few steps closer and Canada needed to listen to the conversation at hand.

"Al, please shh." The Canadian whispered, focusing in on the Italian nation's voice. He waited until Italy was done with whatever he was going on about before saying "It's really ok, I'm used to it." The violet-eyed nation carefully avoiding using the country's name as he said that, turning his head back towards his brother. "Hold on, I'll put Alfred on the phone for you."

Canada shoved the phone into America's hands and took a few steps back. America looked a little confused but put the receiver to his ear anyway.

"Hello?"

"Hi America, it's Italy." America tensed but tried to keep his composure. Italy sounding exhausted but relived. "Look, I really need to talk to you-"

"Feli before you say anything, can I just say I'm so sorry for the other night? I was drunk and stupid and I'm so sorry." The blond said desperately.

"America, I really think we should talk about this in person. Can you meet Germany and I at 6:00 tomorrow at that restaurant we met at the first time we met?" The Italian said firmly, his voice softening as he added. "But don't worry ve, you're forgiven."

He sighed with relief and nodded, realizing a second later Italy couldn't see him and responded. "I'll be there." Canada backed silently into the corner of the kitchen, hoping (for once) America wouldn't notice him as he did so.

"Thank you so much. Ve, I'm so sorry for all of this Alfred," The blond took note that this was the first time the Italian had used his real name during this call. "I never meant to hurt you or Germany and I'm so sorry." It lifted a weight off his chest to hear him say his name, but simultaneously he felt guilty. Feli sounded very sad; this wasn't his fault.

"No it was my fault. I saw you and Germany; I shouldn't have kissed you when I knew you were with him." The words were bitter leaving his lips, and he felt anger rush through his veins as the picture of Germany and Italy's kiss (forever burned in the back of his mind) resurfaced.

There was a pause, a long, shaky intake of breath, before Italy announced firmly. "I am not _with_ Germany. I never was."

Alfred felt a little relieved, but anger was still burning in his stomach. Canada looked on worriedly. America seemed agitated, but over what? He had to resist the urge to sneak off, pick up another phone in the house and eavesdrop. "So what was that-?"

"America," His voice sounded shaky and nervous. The American frowned as he noticed the Italian switch away from his human name. "Germany kissed me, I didn't kiss him. He got more or less the same reaction from me as you did."

Now the blue-eyed nation was confused. "I don't understand."

Italy emitted a shaky sigh and the blonde's interest peaked as he heard what sounded like a sob. "Feli? Are you-"

"I promise I'll tell you everything tomorrow just- I have to go."

Alfred heard a sniff and said quickly. "Wait! Feli don't hang up-" But the dial tone was already sounding in his ear and the blond looked down at the phone in shock. Why was he crying?

Canada took a step closer and asked quietly. "Alfred, are you alright?"

America jumped, turning towards the Canadian with wild eyes. His hand jumped to cover his chest. He recognized his brother and took a relieved breath. "Matt! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

The Canadian's eyes filled with hurt but he brushed it off as usual. "I've been here… Never mind, tell me what happened."

Alfred proceeded to explain the phone call to his younger brother. The Canadian listened with wide eyes until the American finished and nodded when he was done. But, not knowing exactly how to comment, the blond country just said. "I guess I won't be staying long then."

...

Feli hung up and rubbed his streaming cheeks, feeling guilt settle in his stomach as he put the phone back in its cradle. He turned to his brother who seemed completely oblivious to his brother's tears as he asked icily. "Well? Did the burger-eating bastard say yes?"

The Northern country nodded silently and leaned forward to hug his older twin. Romano grunted irritably, but didn't shove his brother off like he would have normally done. Italy was full of gratitude; he knew his brother showed affection sparingly, so this was a rarity. "Idiot. They better not mess this up or I'm getting the shotgun." The Southern nation muttered.

In Lovino's opinion, it was the two blonde's fault entirely that his brother wasn't eating. He figured the sooner he straightened out this whole mess, the sooner his brother would forget about them and return to his normal happy self.

Feliciano gave his brother a tight squeeze before letting go, wiping his chocolate eyes free of tears. "Thank you fratello." He sighed a tiny smile curled his lips and Romano raised an eyebrow.

"For the shotgun?" He sounded genuinely confused when he said that. It caused his younger twin to giggle.

"For the hug silly!" He squeaked, and repeated the action, this time with negative repercussions.

"Get off me stupid!" The hazel-eyed Italian yelled, pushing his little brother away from him, causing the younger nation to stumble backwards a few steps.

Spain walked into the kitchen and chuckled at the sight of the two brothers. "Aw Lovi, you're so cute when you're embarrassed!" He cooed, walking up behind Romano and hugging him from behind.

"Stop hugging me-" He squirmed in the Spaniard's grip, his face going a deep maroon and he yelled even louder. "Or I'm going to break your fucking teeth bastard!" Spain and Italy both laughed as the hotheaded Italian wriggled out of the Spanish nation's grip and huffed angrily. "Quit touching me!"

Italy's eyes glittered with mirth as he watched to two. When Romano finally swallowed his pride and admitted he liked Antonio they were going to make each other very happy. He called sweetly. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight Lovi! Good night Antonio!"

Spain waved at the younger nation and Romano scowled. "Good night Vene!" Spain sang, Lovino just scoffed.

"Good night idiot." He snapped. He seemed irritated but Italy could hear the carefully concealed warmth in his tone. Quietly he ascended the stairs and strode to his room.

He didn't know what he would do without his older brother. He would honestly do anything for him if he thought it would help him.

The Italian crawled into bed, it felt cold and forbidding without someone to sleep next to. He wrapped his many blankets tightly around him and closed his eyes.

He just wished Romano knew that was true.

...

America strode back into the little Italian restaurant with his head high looking around for a familiar curl among the tables. He sucked in a breath when he noticed not the little Italian, but a large blond German sitting alone at a table. He blowing on a hot drink, oblivious to the America's presence.

Alfred stood ridged, he wasn't sure if he should go over after his recent actions. But the point of coming here was to let it all out there. Maybe he should just apologize? He began slowly walking over to the older country, hoping the blonde wouldn't notice him as he did so. Lucky for America Germany looked deep in thought, his eyes were unfocused and he seemed distracted looking at nothing in particular.

As he approached Ludwig, Alfred noticed a dark bruise on his pale cheek and a second on his jaw, causing him to stop again. This was going to be about a thousand times more awkward than he had thought.

Nonetheless he called a few feet from the table. "Hey Germany, what's up?"

Germany didn't jump; his icy eyes glared coldly at him and followed the American mercilessly as he sat down. "Hallo." He muttered, his gaze flickering away from Alfred's.

"Uh yeah, where's Italy? I though-"

"Italy is late as he always is. I suggest you become comfortable." He commented coldly, taking a sip of his drink, his eyes still had that far-away look in them as he added. "And order something. It looks bad if you just walk in and sit down."

Alfred frowned, his face flushing with anger. Biting back his anger he obeyed, sitting down and ordering some coffee. The duo was doused in uncomfortable silence as they waited for their third counterpart.

Germany seemed completely content in the tense silence, but it was eating away at America's sanity. Despite what he thought of the German he still felt guilty for acting like the dumb American he was labeled as. So he leaned in and said, rather hurriedly. "Look Germany, I feel really bad about the other night. I was drunk and irresponsible and I just wanted to apologize."

He was expecting Germany to just grunt and act like it never happened, however the German's icy eye's locked on his own for a second time. A hard coldness was piercing his gaze but before he could say anything, Ludwig snapped. "You cannot ever make up for this, American." He spat the word like it was poison on his tongue. "You have forever ruined one of my oldest and most treasured friendships. I will never forgive you for that."

Alfred felt his blood begin to boil again in a way only the German could ensue. "You're blaming me?" He snarled, causing the older nation to raise an eyebrow. A few eyes began trailing on the two nations as America's voice rose. "You did that when you decided to be a little too friendly and kiss Italy, didn't you?"

Germany's face went bright red, with anger or embarrassment, the American couldn't tell. "How the hell do you know about that?" He growled softly, his icy eyes burning into America's furiously.

"I saw it. That was a little presumptuous wasn't it?" He sneered, delighting in the silent storm he was kicking up in the German nation. "I hope it was worth it."

"Why you little-" Germany's fists were shaking as he glared murderously at the American nation. Alfred smirked, but his cruel grin began to fade as Germany's eyes flickered past him and widened considerably. He felt cold dread sink into his stomach, there could only be one reason for that kind of reaction.

America turned his head slowly around and his eyes settled on a familiar slim figure standing rigidly behind him. "Feli." Alfred breathed, and uncomfortable feeling twisting his insides as their eyes locked and America noted the dead look in the brunette's own. "Uh, hi."

Germany nodded awkwardly in the Italian's direction and said quietly. "Italy, it's good to see you again." Feliciano just nodded and frowned in a completely uncharacteristic fashion. Alfred felt his face burn with embarrassment and he let his head hang in shame.

Yeah, this was going to go well.

...

Feliciano gripped the front of his hair stressfully for a moment before settling down and taking a deep breath, he wanted to try and do this rationally. He looked up at the two blonds, both of which had about an identical look of humiliation and regret. Feli could sense the oncoming apologizes and just said tiredly, rubbing one of his eyes stressfully. "It's alright, how about we just get started?"

America nodded and Germany leaned forward and said gruffly. "Of course, I'm so sorry."

America glared at the other blond, he had just about had it with all the apologies. But Italy decided to just play oblivious and smile as warmly as he could at his German friend. He knew how hard it was for him to swallow his pride sometimes. Italy was always so happy whenever his friend would open up. It might not have looked like it to anyone else, but Feliciano could always tell when it came to Ludwig. "Don't worry about it Germany!" America just continued to scowl.

A few minutes later the Italian ordered some coffee and leaned forward. "Do you guys mind if we start right now?" He asked tentatively, wanting to get the two blondes approval before beginning. It would feel like the two had some control like this.

Germany nodded silently and American still looked humiliated with that adorable, heart tugging, kicked puppy-dog look he sometimes acquired. Italy's eyes widened with sympathy. He just wanted to give the poor country a hug!

"I just want to say I'm sorry, for being such a jackass to you and Germany," Italy's eyes widened further and he leaned in, fighting the urge to take the blonde's hand. "It was uncalled for and I wish it never happened."

Germany scoffed and crossed his arms causing the moment to shatter. "Alright American. How about you tell me why you were thinking I would be abusing, and threatening my best friend."

Italy gasped and turned now rapidly watering chocolate eyes on a particularly shame-faced Alfred. He opened his mouth to say something when the American interrupted, his expression melting instantly into one of indignation. "At least I've apologized! You're the one who seems to think I've 'ruined' your relationship with Italy, I haven't done anything wrong!" Italy's eyes filled with tears and he opened his mouth to comment but-

"Oh please," Ludwig scoffed. "'Haven't done anything wrong'? You started a fight with me for no damn reason asshole!"

Italy's head was spinning; it was all happening way too fast, what the hell was going on right now?

"Oh I'm sorry you're just such a freaking saint-!" Alfred screamed, but Italy interrupted with his own outburst.

"Oh my gosh I'm so fucking done with you both!" There was a slight clunk as a small mug of coffee was placed in front of the red-faced Italian.

Everyone started turning in the direction of their table. The Northern nation was very aware he was causing a scene. Italy would have laughed at the comical looks on the two younger countries faces if he hadn't been monumentally angry with the pair of them. His small fists shook at his sides. These two had been trying his patients for the past few days and had been the reason for many sleepless nights lately. He was beyond done.

"I can't believe either of you." He gasped, astonished at the two still shell-shocked countries. "I can't even meet you two for one civil conversation anymore! Neither of you can at least play nice for two fucking minutes. You can't stop acting like jackasses long enough for me to just explain myself! I'm beyond done." He looked between the two exasperated and added frustrated. "I should go."

The Italian grabbed a few bills from his wallet and threw them onto the table, hoping he could storm off before either recovered from the shock of hearing him scream, cuss, and stand up to both of them at the same time. "Don't call me." He added hotly, his brown eyes blazing angrily into blue as he grabbed his coat and started off.

There was a scraping sound and Feliciano found his way blocked by a very tall German. Italy was still fuming, his rage fueling his bravery as he stared Germany right in the eye. He felt his fists shaking at his sides again but kept his mouth shut. They stayed staring at each other for a moment. The brunette didn't move, expecting to hear something from the younger nation.

As the seconds rolled past however, it became clear to the little country that Germany had stood up on an impulse. Ludwig opened his mouth but Feliciano shook his head and pushed past him. His blood was on fire and despite his irrationality he didn't want to go off on Germany again. He gasped as he felt a warm hand grip his upper arm and tug him back.

The brunette found himself nose to nose with America; his eyes softened at the hurt look on the American's face. They stood there a moment before Alfred said quietly "Feli-" The brunette's eyes narrowed and his rage returned. He didn't get to use his name, the blond was just going to apologize and hurt him all over again. Italy wouldn't have it. He wrenched his arm out of the American nation's grip and retreated rapidly towards a well-known park nearby to hopefully hide out for a few minutes.

He sighed contently as he entered the park, his lungs were burning and his legs were aching from the run. He panted slightly and groaned happily as he went and sat down on one of the many benches around the lovely view.

The park was littered with huge, shady trees. A long path let gradually to a calming forest with a pond at its center. Italy didn't come here very often, but it always seemed to calm him down whenever he did.

He inwardly groaned as he heard hurried footsteps, already knowing who had come after him. He turned teary eyes onto Alfred, who stopped, panting in front of the Italian. "Italy wait-"

"No, I'm sorry I overreacted like that but-" The brunette stood up, faced the American and said sadly. "I need some space, you two are choking me and it's making me crazy! It's like that time Romano found out I bought him tomatoes for him and Antonio to share."

Alfred blinked, suddenly distracted. "Wait… why would that stress him out?"

Italy laughed in spite of himself, he honestly didn't know for sure, but he had his theories. "There's something about Spain, Romano and tomato's…" He broke off with a cute little giggle and waved the question away, smiling at the thought of a flustered Romano being hugged happily by a smiling Spaniard.

He looked back up, a little flustered and turned his gaze on the blond. Alfred's eyes were sparkling and he had a small smile on his face…

Panic flooded Italy's stomach. He knew that look, and it scared him that America was looking at him like that. He needed to clear a few things up. "Alfred," His voice was serious now. "Can I ask you something?" America's smile faded and he nodded. "Why did you tell me you loved me?"

The American country rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled. "Because, well, I think I'm in love with you." Italy's eyes widened and opened his mouth but the blue-eyed nation took a step closer. "It's not just that you're so funny, and sweet, and absolutely adorable," Italy's blush grew deeper and deeper as the American went on. "You listen to me. I mean you really listen to me; you don't just nod politely or space out."

America took a few steps closer and leaned down until they were almost nose-to-nose. The Italian's face went bright red, completely distracted by the younger nation's spectacled cerulean eyes. "I might just be latching onto the first, kind, person who's just trying to be my friend. But I don't want to lose you. If the way I feel about you isn't love, well then I'm not sure what is."

Italy felt a familiar pressure tense his shoulders. Alfred was looking at him in that hopefully, hopelessly in love sort of way, and it was scaring him. He had at one point had a ridiculously big crush on the American, but it was nothing like love. Italy knew what love was, he knew how it felt, its pain and it's passion. He didn't know how he felt towards the American right now, but he was having his doubts. He heard the American country say he wasn't gay, that the two of them were just friends, he was so confused.

The whole Germany thing only made it worse; he had the biggest crush on the nation before World War II. But after Germany had hurt him whilst they were still allies. He could never look at him the same way again despite them still being friends. But he still cared a lot about Alfred, too much to lead him on. If there were any chance it would hurt Germany, or if his feelings weren't as strong, he couldn't possibly take advantage of America like that.

He looked down, dreading rejecting him again. "I'm sorry, but we can't do that." He sighed quietly, taking a step back. "Look, I don't want to lose you either. You're still my friend." The brunette put a hand on the American's shoulder, still looking him directly in the eye. "But I need some space right now. You and Germany are just putting too much on me right now and I think we all need some time to cool off."

The words came easier than he thought they would. Feliciano's hand slid off of Alfred's broad shoulder as the blond nodded saying. "Alright I understand. I'll call you later if you-"

"No." Alfred looked shocked and a little confused. Italy prepared himself once again to hurt the poor nation's feelings. "I need time to think and consider this. You won't be hearing from me for a while Alfred."

The Italian's heart squeezed painfully in his chest as he looked into America's crushed expression. He couldn't take it anymore, it was all becoming too much all over again and Italy could feel tears beginning to prick at his eyes. He hated breaking people's hearts like this.

He started backing away from the blond as he called out quietly. "Goodbye. See you around."

And he turned and strode off, wiping tears from his chocolate eyes as his heart broke in two.

 **(An):**

 **That hurt me to write :( I'm sorry if it seemed a little rushed, but I hope it at least makes up a little bit in length for last time.**

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing!**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Sunlight filtered through the shades shining on Alfred's white sheets. The blond nation was fast asleep underneath his plethora of blankets and pillows. It was nearly twelve in the afternoon, but it wasn't unusual as of late to find him in this comatose-like position.

Canada was standing at the door, his hands on his hips as he looked sadly down at his older brother. Alfred had told him about what had happened with Italy, and for the past month or so he had let the American mope.

But it had in fact, been a month, and Matthew couldn't let his big brother sit around forever. Besides, there was a meeting coming up soon enough and he wasn't going to let him look like complete crap in front of everyone.

So, out of love of course, the Canadian banged on America's door rather loudly and called. "Alfred? It's time to wake up!" There wasn't a response. Canada repeated his name multiple times with no response, so the blond went on to phase two.

Matthew opened the door to the rather messy room and flung the massive blankets from his brother and sang loudly in the southern country's ear. "Breakfast!"

Alfred blindly groped for him, but is lazy movements weren't hard to dodge. "Sleepy." The American moaned, as his hand dropped back to his side. "Please go away."

Matthew frowned. "Come on Al, it's too late to still be sleeping. It's almost lunchtime and you're still in bed. Time to get up. Come on." The Canadian nation grabbed Alfred's muscular arm and whined vexedly. "Get up eh." He kept tugging on the older nations arm, his frustration growing with each pull. "Alfred!" He yelled, dropping his older brother's arm angrily.

"What?" He whined, turning tired cerulean eyes on his younger brother. Canada huffed irritably, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared America down.

"Al," He said gently, looking down at the roused country haughtily. "You have to stop staying up so long and waking up this late! It's not good for you, eh."

Alfred sighed, ran his fingers through his hair and looked down at the floor. "I know."

"Then how come you keep doing it eh? You're going to have to face Italy eventually Al. And it might be sooner than you think." Alfred frowned. Canada wasn't surprised the blond had forgotten about their meeting. He wasn't exactly on top of things lately. "We have a meeting coming up next week, everyone is going to be there."

America just huffed and shifted, pushing himself into a sitting position and rubbed his bleary eyes. "I'm not going."

"You missed the last one Al. You can't just keep missing meetings because of your personal life eh." He said patiently, his exasperation for his brother fading into pity. America had his heart broken a few weeks ago and he still wasn't completely sure how or why. The Canadian nation had considered calling Italy himself, but it wasn't any of his business.

Besides that, the little country hadn't looked particularly peachy at the last meeting either. Italy had seemed so tired, he had bags under his eyes, his hair had been dull and he spent most of the meeting staring blankly out into space. He looked like he was feeling guilty, which made Canada feel a little relieved (if only slightly). He usually at least tried to look like he was paying attention, and most of the time he had Germany to correct him if he wasn't.

But Germany hadn't made an appearance either. Instead Gilbert had showed up in his place. The meeting had been a little solemn without America; the awkward tension in the room didn't go away as the hours dragged on. Everything felt forced and it seemed everyone was well aware of the awkward situation between the three countries. It did nothing to defuse the situation.

Canada half expected Romano to take Italy's place this week. They were after all the same country. Romano was just, how could he say this delicately? Not the most social of countries. The first time they had met, the Italian nation had accused him of not being a real country. Of course, the blond had assured him he was a perfectly legit nation, but Romano had gone unconvinced until America had unwittingly addressed him during the meeting.

To say the least, he wasn't fond of Romano. Not many were, and it surprised Canada to no end how Spain had put up with the little country for so long. And as far as he knew they were still friendly; it was surreal considering Spain was also friends with nations like France and Prussia.

He wasn't Italy, but if it was up to him he would send the little nation home, wrap him in a blanket, give him some soup and put him to bed. The Italian country looked like he needed it from what the Canadian had seen; Alfred was no better. But he had been in bed nearly all month, barely spoken to him and hadn't done much work. America was getting his paper work done, but it was almost as if he was hiding from the world.

As a good friend and his brother, Canada couldn't let him go out like that. He needed to get his brother back up and running as soon as possible. It was never good to show weakness in front of the other countries. Usually the way a country was feeling was based off either how the country was feeling or the state of their economy. Italy could probably get away with looking tired once or twice, but America was one of the bigger countries. His weakness could be used to a much greater advantage than when it was just cute, little, Italy.

The Canadian nation understood this fairly well for a country that wasn't very significant. He wasn't acknowledged by anyone very often. He doubted anyone would notice if he was feeling under the weather. His knowledge of the situation was mainly because he was so closely affiliated with countries like America and England.

"If you don't get up, all the pancakes will be gone!" he sang, going for a softer angle on his now touchy brother. He had yet to see him cry, but the American had developed a habit of disappearing whenever he got upset. He wasn't always sure where Alfred ended up, and it scared him sometimes how long he went missing for. Canada pushed his older brother off his bed, causing the blue-eyed nation to cry out in shock.

Canada giggled as his older brother popped his head from over the side of the bed. He looked irritated at the Canadian's smirk, but he sighed, got up, and stretched whining softly. "Tired."

"But now you can have some pancakes!" He cheered, grabbing his older brother's forearm and leading him downstairs. Finally he was getting somewhere with the older nation. "And there's coffee too! But pancakes are always the best in my opinion eh."

Canada led America downstairs and dished his brother up with a couple of pancakes and poured him a large amount of maple syrup. Alfred groaned tiredly as the Canadian grabbed him a mug of coffee and put it down in front of him. "C'mon Alfred, you've barely said five words this morning!" The violet-eyed nation prod, hoping to get the American nation to start speaking, but Alfred seemed impervious to his plans.

The American just shrugged as he tucked into his food. Canada frowned; this was going to be a lot harder than he thought.

...

Matthew was furious; all day he had tried again and again to get Alfred off his feet and the American simply didn't respond to him. This was getting ridiculous. America was driving him insane, even Canada who considered himself very patient was getting annoyed with him. He needed to fix this, he just didn't know how.

It had been a day since Canada had managed to get his brother out of bed before 2:00AM, and he still had barely said more than a few sentences to Canada. Call him nosey but he was starting to wonder if he really should call Italy and ask him what was going on. But it was a little personal and Canada didn't want to cross any borders.

Until later that night, that was.

The Canadian nation was pacing Alfred's kitchen worriedly. He wasn't exactly sure why it was America had left. He had one of his fits once again and the violet-eyed nation had barely seen him all day. He had called Alfred's cell, went out looking for him for two hours, and tried calling everyone-

Then Matthew realized there was one last person he could call; Italy. Canada bit his nails stressfully as he considered. By the time the clock hit 2:30 Matthew was reaching for the phone when he heard the door open with a bang. The Canadian nation gasped as Alfred came stumbled in, drunk, bruised and bloody.

"Alfred!" The younger nation gasped, running over to his older brother, half concerned, half pissed. He put a hand on his brother's forehead, but the older nation pushed him away.

"I'm alright. I just need some sleep…"

"You're bleeding and you can hardly walk." Canada hissed, trying to fight the urge to hit America himself. Honestly he knew better than this. But he took a deep breath and supported his brother and led him to the bathroom. As Canada worked to get his brother cleaned and patched up, he came to a very important, very exhausting decision.

He had to call Italy.

...

Italy jumped slightly as he heard the phone blared into the silence with an obnoxious ring. The Italian nation sighed exhaustedly staring at the phone, debating with whether he should answer, or just let Romano get it instead.

But as the phone droned on, Italy decided to just answer and end its insistent ringing. He snatched up the phone and took a deep breath, preparing himself to answer the phone with as much enthusiasm as he could inject. "Ciao!" He answered, trying not to make his cheerful tone sound too forced.

"Is his Italy?" The nation froze, that voice was eerily familiar.

"A-America?" He asked shakily, his heart squeezing guiltily in his chest.

"Oh no! This is Canada."

Italy had to think about that a second, he certainly sounded like America. Where was Canada? Then it hit him like a train and he squeaked guiltily. "Oh! Ciao Canada! I didn't recognize you I'm so sorry!"

The Canadian nation sighed, sounding a little resigned. "Oh, it's alright don't worry aboot it eh."

Italy sat in confused silence for a few more seconds before he asked hesitantly. "Ve, why are you calling, Canada?"

"Um, actually I wanted to talk to you aboot America." His tentative voice answered, its content causing Italy to flinch. His stomach clenching uncomfortably.

Italy saw this coming, but it didn't make the idea of talking about it any better. "Oh, well I expected as much. " He choked, trying to keep his voice under control. "Why-why isn't he talking to me himself?"

"Well uh, it might be because he doesn't know I'm calling you." That peaked Italy's interest.

"W-what?" He stammered, this was rather unlike the quiet Canadian.

"Well," Matthew sighed, and Italy sat down on the couch preparing himself for his reaction. "Um, it goes like this. Alfred has been, um, a little bit… depressed, lately and well, I'm not exactly sure why. I thought maybe you could explain what's going on? Please?"

Italy felt a wave of pain press heavily on his chest. "And… The person you call about Alfred being depressed, is me?" He murmured, a wave of sadness hitting him heavily.

There was silence as the Canadian registered Italy's words. "Oh not at all Italy! I-"

"Canada, it's alright." He interrupted, hoping he wasn't sounding too rude. "You're worried about America, it's understandable. My fratello is the same." He paused for a moment before he added. "I-I mean I suppose I could, explain I mean, if it'll help you help Alfred."

"Well, not if you're uncomfortable Italy..." The blonde said softly, but Italy could detect the eagerness in the Canadian's voice.

"I think I just need to get this out, I don't think my fratello would appreciate me discussing my love life with him." He admitted, a nervous ache settling in his stomach. "Ve, I guess I'll start at the beginning."

So he began to explain. And once he started, he found it almost impossible to stop. Italy decided to start with his huge crush on the blond American. How he had just wanted to become friends with the American and see if it was possible for the American nation to feel the same. But then he told Canada about the overheard conversation, and for the first time the violet-eyed Canadian interrupted him.

" _What?_ Oh my gosh I'm so sorry eh!" Matthew squeaked, it was clear the blond didn't know anything about it.

"Ve, yeah, don't worry about it too much." He assured, just wanting to finish and have it be done with.

"But that doesn't make any sense! America is into you, I know it!" He insisted.

"It's just what happened…" Italy replied sadly, trying not to blush. "Anyway, so after that I just tried my hardest to get over him, and for a little while there I thought I could…" He paused a moment, remembering the painful weeks he spent telling himself over and over again the American would never feel the same about him, it made him shudder.

"Italy?" Canada's voice interrupted his thoughts, and Italy snapped back into concentration, his mind still foggy.

"Hm? Oh, ve… Sorry." Italy sighed, continuing despondently. "I guess I started to get over him towards the end. When I painted that picture for him, I spilled all the emotions I was feeling into it and I felt… I felt like everything would be alright even if he didn't like me the way that I liked him." It sounded more depressing out loud then Italy had intended. He didn't really want a pity-party right now.

"See, that's where I'm confused. You found out America really does like you. What was the problem?"

"I-I know this is going to sound really weird and maybe a bit silly, but I never really got over Germany, you know? I turned myself off to the idea of being with America, and then Germany kissed me and…" Italy struggled for words, hoping he didn't sound too strange. "I don't know. I wasn't really over America then either, it was only a couple weeks. I just couldn't do anything with Germany with my mind on someone else. I didn't want him to be my rebound, I guess. I was confused and needed time to think, so I told him I needed time and left.

"I guess you know the rest, Alfred kissed me in the bathroom and I was more confused then ever. He told me he loved me when I had just been spending all this time telling myself he wasn't even gay; I left. I guess I'm just cowardly like that, but he was drunk and I didn't know what to do."

"I think I would have done the same thing, if it makes you feel any better." Canada said kindly, making Italy smile slightly. "It sounds exhausting."

"It was. Well, anyway, I got to the place we were suppose to be meeting in and Germany and America were already fighting. I suppose it's not surprising but it was kind of unsettling. I was a little more than sick of them being at each others throats. Then I tried to calmly explain myself and ask for some time and space, and they started screaming at each other again over whose fault this whole thing was.

"Ve, I don't really know what happened, but I got super angry and started yelling and cursing, and I stormed off." Italy closed his eyes a moment, remembering his moment of weakness and what followed afterward. "I went to this park, and America followed me. So, I just told him not to call me and that I needed space." Italy paused a moment before saying guiltily. "I know that's so mean, but they were suffocating me and I was just _really_ mad. It has been hard and I feel really bad. How is America?" He asked tentatively. A part of him didn't want to know, fearing the blond hated him and had spent the last month angry and spiting him.

Canada exhaled and said sadly. "He hasn't been good. But thanks for talking to me. America was pretty insistent about keeping quiet."

Italy blinked back tears. "O-oh. Well, thanks for listening to me Canada. Are you going to be at the next meeting?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know, I don't usually see you there is all. Will you come over and talk to me?"

Canada sighed and said a little sadly. "Yeah sure. Just remember I'll be looking for you, ok?"

"Of course, um, America is going to be there, right?" He asked, half hoping he would show up, the other half hoping America would just avoid him for the time being.

"Yes. I'm going to make him go whether he wants to or not. I don't like making him but…"

"I understand. Well, ciao Canada." Italy murmured sadly, a huge weight having been lifted from his shoulders

"Goodbye Italy! See you soon!"

...

"America!" Canada called, walking up to his older brothers door and knocking loudly. "C'mon Al, we're going to that world meeting in a few minutes. Are you ready?"

There was no response. Canada frowned and opened the door, crossing his arms over his chest as he saw America, asleep and completely unresponsive. The Canadian felt his patients break as he shoved his older brother off the bed, causing the blond to wake up with a start. "What the hell-!"

"This is ridiculous! You're a grown-ass man America get up, and lets go!" He yelled, hoping this would somehow shock his brother back to normal.

America looked up at his brother with a mix of confusion and hurt, but did as he was told without comment, rubbing one of his eyes absently. The sight tugged at Canada's heart making him start to feel guilty for having yelled. "Hey, I'm sorry Alfred. But you need to go to this meeting, ok? Are you prepared and everything?"

"I've got a few things prepared." He murmured. Canada frowned, guilt making him spill his guts.

"I called Italy the other day." America gave him a panicked stare. "You should talk to him. I think he's confused-"

Canada moved back as America grasped him around the shoulders and asked breathlessly. "D-did he ask about me?"

Canada just nodded. "He wanted to know how you were and if you were coming today." He gave America a little smile. "I think he's just a little confused. You should talk to him."

America shook his head sadly. "He's sick of me." He muttered despairingly.

"I don't think that's true." Canada said encouragingly, patting one of America's hands. "I really think you should say something. I'm going to go say hi anyways."

"H-huh?"

"Italy asked to talk to me, will you come with me? It might be easier if you're there." America's grip on Canada loosened and he took a few steps back.

Finally he just nodded slowly. "Yeah, sure thing bro. I think it's the least I can do for you right now."

Canada nodded and held back a triumphant squeal. "C'mon, now we really _do_ have to go in a few minutes."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

America ran a hand through his blond locks, nervous and tired. He had stayed up far too late the night before, and he wasn't even remotely ready to face Italy again. Regardless he followed his younger twin into the meeting room, trying to keep his face blank as his cerulean eyes met Italy's almost instantly. He tried not to stop and stare, but he felt himself entranced by the older nation's illustrious brown eyes.

He forced his gaze away from the Italian nation's and sat down next to Canada who gave him a sympathetic smile. He returned it shyly and turned towards England, who was presenting first today. He did not look very happy about it at all. America found that he could not pay attention no matter how hard he tried to hone in on the British nation's voice. He was too busy trying with all his might not to look across the table at Italy. Said brunette was sitting next to Japan and Germany, as per usual.

But their last meeting was still fresh in the American's mind as his gaze fell upon the Germanic nation. Canada had told him Germany had not attended the last meeting either. He couldn't help but wonder why Italy was sitting in his usual spot next to the blond, he thought things were awkward between the two. Alfred felt his face burn in shame as he realized the churning feeling in his stomach was jealousy. Italy couldn't stand to look him in the eye, yet he stayed by Germany's side. It hurt.

He turned his head fighting an all too familiar burning sensation pricked the bad of the American country's eyes as he turned his head from the pair. Italy was beyond confusing, he wasn't understanding anything the brunette was doing. Some of the things he said didn't make any sense either, it was exhausting. He looked up as the rest of the countries began clapping. After a moment he realized it was because Great Britain had finished up whatever it was he had been talking about and was now taking down the poster boards he had propped up for the benefit of anyone who had actually been listening. America clapped abashedly for a few seconds, hoping his delay had gone mostly unnoticed.

The rest of the meeting dragged on at a snail's pace. For America, it was mostly just an awkward struggle of wanting Italy to look his way, and hoping the brunette would ignore him completely so he could avoid anything uncomfortable. He wasn't sure exactly how he would react if the older nation initiated him in any form of contact. He wouldn't know what to say if Italy even said hello.

It felt like eternity before France called tiredly from his seat. "My, can't we take a break yet? We've already been going at it more than two hours, I need a break from this stressful atmosphere!"

England scowled at his enemy and snapped (probably just to spite the frenchmen). "You idiot! The sooner we get through this, the sooner we get done with this meeting!"

"I think Mr. France is right." Japan piped up, all eyes fell on the small nation. "I think a small recess would be beneficial for all of us."

There was a general murmur of agreement before Germany said in a commanding tone. "Very well. Half an hour and we are back here! Not a moment later!"

France smirked at England's scowling face and walked out of the room, an air of superiority obnoxiously following in his wake.

"That bloody-" England muttered, scowling and stomping out of the meeting room. America was surprised when he saw Italy bounding to his feet. The little country was nearly out of the room right after England though he had been sitting all the way across the room whilst England had been practically right next to the door. It never ceased to amaze America just how fast Italy could move when he really wanted to get away.

"Hey! Italy!" America watched as Canada flew from his seat and managed to grab the older nation's sleeve before he could disappear. "Wait, I want to talk to you real quick."

America blinked, had Canada been there this whole time? "Oh! Canada, hi!" Italy turned towards the violet-eyed nation, giving him a small smile. "That's right, you are Canada. I thought you left already."

His brother absolutely beamed. "You didn't forget about me!" America blinked, his eyes had to be playing tricks on him. Canada grabbed Italy's arm and led him towards America. The American blushed as Italy looked curiously up at him. What was Canada doing? "C'mon Al, Italy's having lunch with us!"

To America's surprise, Italy smiled shyly up at him and said cheerily. "Ve, hello America!" The blond half expected a hug, and was disappointed with Italy turned and started towards the door, not waiting for him to respond.

Canada nudged him gently forward and America realized he was suppose to be following the Italian. Alfred glanced back at Germany, who seemed to be too engrossed in a conversation with Japan to pay him any heed. He let out a puff of air, praying that the German didn't see him talking with Italy. Things were already awkward and until they got outside he ran the risk of being confronted and questioned by the blond nation. That was not ideal.

Canada caught up with Italy and the two were chatting away while America dwindled awkwardly behind. How was Italy so composed? Just what had Canada and him talked about over the phone?

Finally Italy and Canada settled down at a small table with benches on either side and America followed, not sure what else to do. So he sat down across from Italy who gave him a bright smile. America blinked, and hesitantly returned it; Italy just giggled and took out his lunch, unsurprisingly it was a bowl of pasta. America smiled softly, it was something that was just so, Italy.

He still wasn't sure why Italy was wanting to sit next to Canada and him, what was going on? Hadn't he asked for space and time? His heart dropped as he realized Italy might have made a choice, or perhaps had simply decided to go back to normal. He had to know for sure, Italy was a little confusing, but he trusted Canada to help him. His gaze fell on the Canadian who was conversing with Italy with no problem.

"America?" The blond perked up immediately, his gaze meeting Italy's concerned eyes. "Are you ok? You're being really quiet."

He blinked, staring into Feliciano's deep eyes. He couldn't stop the blush that reached his ears at the look the little nation was giving him; it was too cute. "Uh, yeah." Italy gave him a small smile and he added nervously. "Do you mind if I talk to you really quick Italy? It'll only take a minute."

The older nation compiled with a nervous smile and a quick nod. He put down his fork and followed the American to a more secluded area. The blond nation turned towards Feliciano, who was looking a little nervous now. "Ve, what is it?"

America honestly hadn't thought this thing out, he had no idea what he really wanted to say. "Um, it's just well…"

Italy tilted his head to the side and gave him a sympathetic smile. "Hey, I'm sorry about the other month. I think I overreacted a little. I had no right to get that angry at you."

"Um, no I think that was my fault. I'm sorry for acting so childish." Italy beamed up at him and let out a small laugh.

"Aww, but that's what I like about you best." Italy sighed. "I don't think that's the issue here. America," Italy's tone grew serious. "I'm not in love with you."

America knew it was true, but the words felt like a bullet to the chest anyway. He tried not to let how those words affected him show in his face. "I know. But I still think I could make you happy."

Italy's eyes began to water. "Alfred, I have a few questions for you, and I want you to answer honestly. Because I'm not sure if I can believe that you love me right now."

America frowned, what would make him say that? "What?"

Italy's face flushed with embarrassed though he said confidently. "I heard what you told England."

America stared, dumbstruck, what did that mean? "Huh?"

Italy just nodded. "You said- well, um…" He stuttered, giving him a pleading look. "You said something like, you and I could never be anything but friends. And you weren't, you know, gay."

The American blinked, it took him a moment to remember when he had talked to Britain. Then it hit him and he felt his face heat with shame. "You… you heard that?"

Italy nodded. "I was playing football and the ball was kicked over the where you two were talking… I didn't mean to overhear anything, but the ball was stuck in a bush. I-I didn't hear everything," Italy's voice broke and he coughed, trying to cover it up. "I couldn't really hear it all. I'm just confused. Why would you say those things and then tell me you love me? I don't understand."

America felt a squirm of uncomfortable emotion twist his insides. "Uh… It's kind of hard to explain…" That wasn't true. He had a hard time admitting he was gay. In his country, there was every number of people. Gay, straight, bi, you name it. But it still wasn't a very accepted prospect, and people in his country weren't very fond of gays.

Italy was looking expectantly up at him with those expressionate eyes of his. Alfred shook his head, trying not to get distracted. "I-I... ok listen." America's voice dropped and he leaned in closer to Italy, who took a step closer his eyes wide. "Um, my people don't like gays, it's not really a very accepted concept in America and I'm not sure how he would react if he found out. Um... it's just not easy for me to admit it to anyone."

Italy's eyes were wide and sympathetic as pulled back, gazing up into the blond nation's cerulean eyes. "Wow, I'm sorry."

America nodded. "I didn't want to accept it at first, and I'm still kinda struggling with the idea; it's still pretty fresh. But then I saw what Germany did," He grit his teeth angrily a moment as the moment when Germany's lips pressed against Italy's flashed before his eyes once more. "I couldn't deny it anymore. I'm sorry."

Italy just nodded. "That sounds awful." The brunette patted his shoulder sympathetically and gave him a small, sad, smile. "I hope you're ok." He murmured.

"I will be." He sighed. He felt a strange prickling at the back of his neck and glanced back, his gaze hitting Germany's cold stare. The blond nation couldn't have been more than about fifteen feet away from them. He quickly turned back to Italy, moving so that he blocked the Germanic nation from the Italian's view. "Can I ask you something?"

Italy nodded, looking up at the American with wide brown eyes. America swallowed, dreading the Italian nation's reaction. "You don't love me, but… do you feel anything for me at all?"

Italy sighed and ran his fingers through his auburn hair, a stressed expression marring his usually soft features. "Alfred," He perked a little at the use of his name. "Please don't get your hopes up," His heart sank. "I like you as more than a friend, I have for a long time. It's just... " He stopped for a moment and closed his eyes, as if thinking about how best to answer the question. "I'm not in love with you."

The blond nodded sadly, a horrible pain piercing his chest. "I understand." But he couldn't help but feel a little elated from hearing the brunette did feel something for him; it was more than nothing. But he still had one more thing to ask him. "A-and how do you feel about Germany?" America regretted asking almost immediately after the words left him. Italy's gaze instantly found a spot on the ground a tiny frown on his face. "I-If it's too personal I understand it's just…"

The older country just waved off his apology. "That's ok… I don't know. Germany... my feelings are so confused." He muttered. "I care about him so much." Italy looked sadly up at him. "He's my best friend. I like him a lot, that's all I know for sure right now." Italy shuffled a little under America's intense stare.

Alfred felt like he was going to tear apart at any moment. It hurt so much, the look on Italy's face. He thought back to the painting Feli had made him and he couldn't help but wonder if Italy had ever done anything like that for Germany. Bitter resentment towards the older blond was cementing its way deeper and deeper into the American's heart with each new development.

But he didn't want to end on a bad note, so he just nodded and asked quietly. "So, are we cool then?"

Italy gave him a small smile. "Yeah, I think we can be." _for now._ He thought, silently hoping the brunette couldn't see through his gaze. "Ve, this was good." Italy smiled and grabbed the American by the hand. "Would you like to eat now? I don't think the break will last much longer and I'm starving!"

The younger nation blushed at the contact, secretly hoping Germany was still watching them. "Yeah, that sounds good."

Italy's grip on his hand increased as he pulled America back to their table. Canada was still there and eating a couple donuts, awaiting the duo's return.

He smiled brightly as Italy sat beside him once more with America right across. "Hey, you were gone a little while, you guys alright?" He asked cheerfully, glancing between Feliciano and Alfred.

Italy shrugged. "Fine!" He squeaked happily.

America just nodded in agreement giving the Canadian a reassuring smile. Deep down it hurt dreadfully to look at him and know Italy didn't love him, not in the way he wanted him too. He couldn't help but think this was completely Germany's fault. The American was sure that if Germany hadn't interfered, he would certainly have a better shot with Italy than he currently did.

But his smile widened as Feli told his Canadian brother about how he had called Italy's alfredo albino sauce. America smiled, his face slightly pink from embarrassment. But he laughed along with Canada as Italy finished the story a serene smile on the little nation's face. "Ve, then Germany showed up and we all had lunch together!"

America felt the smile slip from his face, luckily the older nation didn't seem to notice as he was still facing Canada, whose smile didn't quite reach his violet eyes. America could tell he could sense how uncomfortable he was when the subject of Germany can up; especially when it came to Italy. "That sounds nice." Matthew glanced down at his watch and said softly. "We should do this again. But right now I think we should head back down to the meeting hall. It's about time to get back, I think."

"Ok!" Italy exclaimed happily, turning towards America's brother and giving him a quick hug. "That sounds like fun!"

Alfred grunted as the brunette leaped up and pulled him into an affectionate hug. He felt his chest swell as he wrapped his arms around the little nation's waist, a small blush gracing his face.

"Talk soon?" He asked hesitantly, pulling away from the older country with a pleading look in his eyes.

Italy smiled, separated from the blond, gathered up his things, and murmured just before turning back towards the building. "Of course."

...

France smirked lightly as he watched America and Italy from afar, their private conversation would never have remained private, America should have known that. It was perfect material, exactly what he needed to help him get exactly what he wanted.

It had been over a month since he'd last interfered with this particular affair. He was beginning to hope that Great Britain (his worst nemesis) had completely forgotten about it. Or, at the very least, had backed down for America's sake. That, he suspected was the only reason the acid-eyed nation had stuck his nose in this at all.

But France had a different goal in mind. He was in it for Italy, (and of course, so he could rub it in Britain's face for the next few decades, but mainly for Italy's sake) the Italian nation deserved better than America.

If that British aristocrat had underestimated one thing, it was Italy. The one factor he hadn't taken into account at all. The Frenchman didn't have a particularly strong pull when it came to Italy, mainly due to the little nation's older brother, he suspected. But he did knew him beyond a friendly 'hello!' and that was all he would need.

So when the meeting resumed (yawn) he tied his long hair back in a ribbon and began flat-out ignoring the entire meeting and focused in on the Italian who was sitting across from him, discreetly glancing over at the younger nation every now and again. What? The meetings weren't that important anyway. He doubted anyone actually listened, he certainly didn't.

Francis frowned as he tried to think up a way to get Italy's mind back on Germany, something simple that would get the little country's mind off that American…

Then he contemplated his options, he had witnessed first-hand what had happened at America's party (he went every year to celebrate Britain's loss, sue him). And that meant…

Italy must be having his doubts about America's integrity. He did after all, appear to hurt Germany for no reason, or for something stupid anyway (honestly, how did that idiotic Brit think Italy would be happy with such a brut?). That was good, it was something he could work with. Especially after what he heard today.

When at long last the meeting dispersed, Francis glanced back at the Italian and smirked. Germany had his hand on the smaller nation's shoulder and they looked to be talking at least on friendly terms. That was good.

"What have you been on about all meeting?" The French nation rolled his blue eyes as an all too familiar voice obnoxiously rang out behind him; England.

"Why, nothing Angleterre. What makes you say that?" France asked innocently.

"Don't play dumb with me git! You've been staring off into space all day! Did you even know what was happening?"

Francis tried not to let the shorter nation ruffle his feathers, but he found that impossible with the look on the Englishman's (stupid) face. "What's it to you?" He drawled, and decided to go for a different angle. "Worrying about me again? That is so sweet Angleterre. But I'm afraid it is unnecessary!" He strived to be as ostentatious as possible.

"How dare you!" Britain snarled, jabbing a finger in the Frenchman's chest. "I couldn't care less if my life depended on it!"

"And yet," Francis winked, hoping it would be enough to rid him of this English tumor. "You always are concerned when you believe me miss informed! Merci Angleterre."

France felt satisfaction swim in his stomach as the former Empire spluttered a minute before screaming. "Never mind Frenchie! I hope the door hits you on the arse on the way out!" And he was gone, having stormed out of the meeting room.

"Same to you Angleterre~" He called after him, before his predatory eyes found Italy's form once again. "Target aquired." He whispered, the his only obstacle was now Germany. The Frenchman sincerely doubted the Germanic nation would let him within five feet of Italy.

Being this handsome had its downsides! He always looked as though he was flirting with the little Italian. Though, on some level, of course he was flirting with the little Italian! How could he not? It was in his blood! Right now however, rather than push the younger upon himself, his goal was to set him up with his German friend.

Francis glanced about the room, noting happily that hardly anyone was still in here. He would look suspicious anyways, so he decided to look like he was organizing his papers, maybe redoing his hair (it was frilling up! This stressful atmosphere…). He hadn't decided yet whether he was happy the German was talking to Feliciano right now, or pissed because he needed to talk to Feliciano right now!

After what felt like eternity Italy wrapped his arms around Germany briefly, the younger nation pulled away, gathered the rest of his papers and made his leave. At once, France's blue eyes looked above his own papers and to his delight Italy had out his phone, texting someone; his brother probably. Francis settled on stuffing his work into his brief case and walking casually up to the Italian, a huge smile on his face.

"bonjour Italie." The French nation purred, hoping he sounded confident. "Tell big brother France how you are doing!"

Lucky for him Italy didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary as he stared trustingly up into France's blue eyes. "Ve, ciao France! I am well, how are you?"

France gave a mock pout and leaned in closer to Italy, fake tears forming in his eyes. "Now, that will not due, you have been upset! Why don't you tell big brother all about it? It might make you feel better!"

Italy shifted uncomfortably before squeaking. "I-I don't want to talk about it."

That was fine. "Oh! you must be really upset oui?" He gushed. "Don't you worry! I know all about it."

Italy's face fell. "Y-you do? Wow, I guess it does travel fast…"

Francis hid his smirk behind a concerned frown. This was going well. "Oh no!" France took another step closer, lower his head so they were only a few inches apart. Italy noticed nothing out of the ordinary. "That is no way to think! Where is my happy little Italie? Can I have a smile?"

It took a moment but Feliciano's face did break out into a slow little smile. It warmed the Frenchman's heart. "très bien!(very good)" France gushed. "Now, you are upset?"

Italy just nodded. "Si, I suppose you know why; you said you do."

The French nation just placed a hand on Italy's shoulder and squeezed. "Why of course. It's that American that has you upset. He," Francis paused for effect. "broke your heart a few months back, oui?"

That hit the nail in the head. Italy's shoulders sagged under the Frenchman's grip and his easy smile slipped from his face. "W-well, si…"

"I cannot help but notice he makes you unhappy... " Italy's eyes hit the floor, this was going according to plan.

"I-it's not that he that he makes me upset…" the Italian mumbled. "It's not his fault."

The blond nation whipped his hair back and said dramatically. "It is tragedy! He does not know it but he breaks your little heart! My poor Italie!"

"I-it's not-!" Italy began, but the Frenchman put a finger to the younger nation's lips.

"Hush, big brother is going to make it better." And he held his arms out. "Would you like a hug Italie?" Almost at once the Italian nation launched himself into his arms, making the blond smirk.

He looked about the meeting room from across Feliciano's shoulder, and as he hoped the place had fallen completely empty. No one to witness, no one to interrupt. "How about you tell me about what happened today?" He began stroking Italy's auburn hair. "You went with my little Canada! Is he not the sweetest little nation you have ever met? Other than me of course!"

Italy giggled lightly and heartily agreed. "I went to have lunch with him and America."

"Oh honhon? It was nice?" Italy nodded against him, France held on tighter. "And what happened there?"

The Frenchman could feel Italy tense up. He smirked once again, this was going to be good… "I went to talk with America about… Last month."

Finally, the blond let him go. France ceased his stroking, but kept his arms around the brunette's thin arms. "Oh! Something personal?" Italy nodded. "I see…"

France stopped, giving Italy a sympathetic gaze. This was bad, he needed to subtly plant the idea that America wasn't known to keep his word into the Italian's mind. And then it hit him. "Well, that is strange… I would have expected America to be talking to England about such things!"

It had the desired effect, Italy froze. "Ve?"

The French nation tightened his grip around Italy's arms and gave him an incredulous look. "Oh, well, they have only known each other for the longest time. I should know! I was there when they met."

Italy blinked. "Oh! Because America was England's colony for a while. I remember."

France sighed, scrunching his face into one of pure sorrow. "A tragic tale that is! America does not like to speak of it! However…" Italy gazed up at him with wonder in his brown eyes. "I think you know him well enough."

"Are you sure-?" Italy began, but the blond nation once again put his finger to the younger's lips.

"What he does not know, oui? It can be our little secret!" Italy nodded excitedly, and Francis let his hand drop back to Italy's arm, his grip tightening. "Very good! Now... when America first met Britain, I knew at once America was in love!"

Italy blinked. "But America was so young, how does that work?"

France bit his lip, he would have to bring out the big guns. It was cruel, but he knew it had to be done. "Well, you were much younger than the Holy Roman Empire, were you not? Age means little when it comes to love."

As soon as he uttered the name, 'Holy Roman Empire', Italy began to tear up. The Frenchman was not heartless, so he enveloped Italy in another hug, his own heart squeezing painfully in his chest. "I-I know," Italy buried his head in Francis' chest. "But, America looked so young. They weren't ever…?"

The blond shook his head. "Oh no! I am sure America's love for England was one-sided, that is, until…" Italy looked up from the blond's chest, his brown eyes swelled with emotion. "Well, America, did not stay so small very long... "

"Ve, yes." Italy nodded. "He grew up very fast!"

"Oui, indeed he did." France agreed patiently. "Then I believe, England did love America." Italy's face fell. It hurt to hurt Italy, but France was just doing this so Italy would be happy. A few hours of pain equals a lifetime of a happiness. worth it.

"That is why England fought so hard to keep him under control." He explained. "I would know my enemy, he was trying to stop America from ever loving another, he did not know the way America felt for him."

Italy looked sympathetic. "That's so sad."

France nodded. "Oui," he agreed. "Do you know what happened next?"

Italy shook his head. "Poor Angleterre, America broke his heart!" He wailed dramatically.

"The Revolutionary War?" Italy whispered. Francis nodded.

"What else? America wanted to be on his own. Even though he loved England, Independence was more important. It nearly shattered poor England..." France despaired. "That is why he is always so short with America, he is hurting."

Italy looked horrified. "He didn't say he was sorry?"

The French nation sighed dramatically. "How could he? America doesn't regret breaking England's heart." France looked away from Italy, trying to look thoughtful. "Hm, it makes me wonder how America could have loved him and then hurt him so bad. England is still so upset about it…"

Italy asked softly. "But, he went to the Fourth of July party America threw, why would he go?"

France feigned a knowingly sad look. "Because England is still in love with him…"

Italy squeaked. "W-what?" France nodded.

"Oh!" France slapped his hands to his mouth, mostly to cover the smile that had broke there. This was too easy. "I wasn't suppose to say that!" He pulled Italy close, looking the brunette right in the eye. "Y-you wouldn't tell anyone would you? Promise me Italie!"

"I-I promise!" France was satisfied. Italy was looking deep in thought, horrified and doubtful. He was rethinking his relationship with America. Now for the last phase.

"Good." He sighed, acting relived. "Our little secret?" Italy nodded frantically.

"Oh thank you Italy!" France hugged him again, trying his best not to lower his hands… "Now, return to your Germany!"

The Frenchman pulled away, revealing a very confused Italy. "Ve?"

France blinked, then exclaimed. "Oh! Je suis désolé!(I'm sorry)" He giggled. "I forget, you and Germany are only good friends."

The Italian tilted his head to the side. "How could you forget something like that?"

France covered his mouth as he giggled again, tossing his long hair back as he did so. "Oh, it is not that." He waved a hand dismissively. "I forget you are not a couple. He makes you so happy Italie!"

The brunette blushed and looked down. "Y-yeah."

France gave him a knowing smile and put his hand back on the little nation's shoulder. "He makes you very happy." He made his voice deep and knowing as he added. "He always has, pardon, but America seems to make you very sad."

Italy flushed and shouted. "It's not his fault!"

France pulled away, fake tears swimming in his eyes. "I'm so sorry!" He buried his face in his hands. "I just want what is best for you. I want what will make you happy." He looked up, giving Italy a small smile. "Germany makes you happy. And America seems to make you unhappy… Germany always makes you smile, and you make him smile."

Italy was looking up at him in wonder. This, at least, was true. He did want Italy to be happy. He did care for goodness sake! This little lie was just to keep him away from the wrong person. He just prayed Italy would stay silent.

France jumped a little when he felt Italy put a small hand on his chest, right over his heart. "It's ok France, stop crying." The blond blinked the tears away, silently hoping they hadn't been real. "Thank you for telling me this, it means a lot to me…"

Guilt was starting to settle in the older nation's stomach. Italy didn't deserve to be lied too… But he was doing this to stop him from making a huge mistake. So he would leave him with one bit of real advice.

"Italie, just one more thing. I don't want to keep you too long." The clock was indeed ticking. Italy would be missed, and he would too. He had already been in here longer than planned, anyone could walk in at any minute to look for them. He didn't want America or even Germany to know he had been talking with Italy. So he leaned in and whispered. "Love starts with trust. If you do not trust someone, you will never be able to truly love them."

Italy looked deep in thought for a moment before he nodded. removing his hand from the French nation's chest. "Thank you." He whispered. Giving Francis the most grateful smile. "This means a lot big brother France. Grazie."

That only made Francis feel worse, he had to get out of here. "No problem Italy!" It took all his willpower not to get all choked up. He stepped back and gestured to the door. "Shall we?"

Italy smiled and followed France out of the meeting room.

...

Germany looked vacantly about the hallway as his mind slowly began to wonder. It had been a long few months for the German nation and he was more than a little confused about it all.

The blond sighed, staring at nothing in particular. He was waiting for Italy to leave the meeting room so he could apologize for his distance as of late. He was feeling very guilty for the other month, and he would rather apologize to Italy in private and in person. He wasn't very sure of anything right now, but he knew he needed to apologize.

One thing was certain in Ludwig's mind was that Feliciano didn't return his feelings. That he had been thoroughly rejected and he should just apologize and return to normal as soon as possible. No matter how much it would hurt.

Ludwig clenched his fists at the idea of his best friend with America. But he had decided that if that was what made his Feliciano happy, then he wouldn't let his feelings stand in Italy's way. He just wanted Feli to be happy. He just hoped he would be able to live with himself.

America just rubbed him the wrong way. The young country was too cocky and self-centered for his taste. He refused to believe that Italy would not be hurt by the American. How could he not be? That country was number one in handgun and civil violence.

Aside the fact the German had serious feelings for Italy, he was trying to look out for him, keep him away from countries that would take advantage of his weakness. America wasn't particularly cruel and Germany was sure he wouldn't just try and conquer Italy for the fun of it. But Japan had informed him that the American was a little violent and Italy was fragile and he cried easily.

Germany rubbed his throbbing temples as he recalled the events that had been unfolding lately. It wouldn't matter anymore if Italy forgave him, their friendship would never be the same again. It was America's fault, Italy obviously chose the American over him. He loosened his clenched fists, trying to calm himself down before he had to face the Italian again.

Germany's head perked when he heard the door open and he stood up just as Italy approached, France not far behind him. He frowned, what was Italy doing alone with France? He knew better. or at least, Germany thought he knew better.

He opened his mouth to inquire why the brunette had been alone with France of all nations when Italy walked right up to him and pulled him down for a fiery kiss.

Ludwig's eyes widened considerably as Feliciano looped his arms around the blond's neck and inched closer to him. Shock rocked the younger nation's body as he stared down at his best friend, expecting anything but this from Mediterranean country.

Finally Germany let his eyes flutter closed and began to kiss back, smiling against the Italy's soft lips. Hesitantly the German wrapped one arm around Feli's waist and lifted a big hand to cup his cheek.

Germany felt his lungs begin to burn and they separated, both panting lightly. Italy smiled brightly up at the German, whose smile hadn't left his face. The brunette loosened his grip on the younger nation, and slipped one arm from around Ludwig's neck. He placed a small hand on the German's pale cheek and traced his features with his thin fingers. His light pants tickling Germany's face.

"I-Italy?" Germany murmured, looking down at the Italian nation still in his arms.

The brunette looked up at him with wide eyes and stuttered. "I-I'm sorry." and began to pull away.

Germany held him fast and looked the older country right in the eye. "No, it's alright. I'm just confused." The Germanic nation murmured, wanting to hear Italy's explanation.

Feliciano blushed lightly and dropped his hand from Ludwig's cheek. "Well… Ve, I like you… As more than a friend. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to realize... " The brunette looked up at Germany with shining, illustrious, chocolate eyes, emotion swimming passionately in their depths. "I can't live without you."

Germany couldn't stop the small smile that broke out on his face. Gently the blonde leaned forward and brushed back Italy's bangs, pressing a tender kiss to the older nation's forehead; he whispered softly. "Thank you. You mean the world to me."

"Ludwig?"

"Yes?"

"Will you be my boyfriend?"

The German chuckled and moved away from Italy so he was looking the brunette directly in his huge eyes. Everything he felt for the older nation pouring into his next words.

"Of course."

...

America jumped, nearly dropping his game station as he heard a very insistent knock on his door.

He frowned, glancing over at the clock, wondering who would be calling him so late. Canada had left yesterday as he considered the issue with Italy and him, for the worst of it, solved. He shook his head as another, more insistent knock reverberated throughout the house. He would find out soon enough.

The American nation walked quickly towards his door with a curious expression marring his face as he opened the door.

"Feli?" He exclaimed, a small smile jumping to his face as he looked down on the little brunette. "Hey! What's up?" he chirped, his face flushing a shameless red as his feelings for the little nation surged to the surface.

"Hi Alfred…" America frowned a little as he noticed the strangely sad note in the Italian's voice. He leaned forward, and suddenly he noticed the downcast look in Italy's soft eyes and immediately felt his chest contract with pain.

The blond held his door open and murmured. "Are you ok? What's wrong? Come in, please."

Italy nodded solemnly and walked passed the blond, even his curl seemed to sag as he walked into America's house. It pulled at his heart to see the usually lively nation so downcast.

Feliciano turned, facing Alfred, causing the blond stumble to a quick stop in the middle of the hallway. "Al, there's something I have to tell you… and I want you to hear it from me first."

America blinked, that sounded ominous. "What's wrong?" He reached for the brunette's hand, giving the Italian's petite hand a slight squeeze. "You can tell me anything.

The blond startled a little as Italy slipped his hand out of his. America frowned, hurt by the gesture. "Feli…"

"I'm dating Germany!" He burst, tears swimming in his illustrious eyes.

Alfred's mouth fell open, Italy's words hitting him like a bus. He felt like his heart was being torn in half. Like something was clawing on the inside of his chest. Tears burned his cerulean eyes, clouding his vision.

"Y-you're… What?" He choked, desperately hoping he was somehow wrong, that he'd misheard, was misinformed, anything that would make this unreal.

But the look on Feliciano's face crushed any hope he had that Italy or himself was mistaken. There was a sickening mix of pity, and apologetic sympathy on the Italian's soft features. He felt his hands begin to shake, dreading what was coming next.

"I-I got together with Germany last night. Him and I are dating now." America took a step back, tears were dripping down his cheeks in rapid streaks before he could think to stop them. "I'm so sorry, I never meant to hurt you."

The older nation reached up with a shaking hand and wiped away America's gushing tears. The blond let out a heart-wrenching sob and leaned into Italy's warm hand, his whole body shaking uncontrollably.

He couldn't believe what was happening, Italy had chosen Germany over him? He couldn't believe this!

But Alfred couldn't find it in himself to be angry at this moment. He felt Italy retract his hand. The loss of contact drove a fresh wave of pain throughout his chest.

"Why?" He choked, looking down at the shorter nation with bloodstained eyes.

Italy blinked his eyes bulging with tears. "W-what?"

America took a shuddering breath, trying hopelessly to keep his emotions under control. "Why him? Why did you choose him over me?"

Italy took a step back, his face contorted with a desperately sad expression. His eyes begged America to understand. And he wanted to, he couldn't stand that expression on Italy's face.

But he just couldn't, he needed to know.

Italy closed his eyes briefly before murmuring despairingly. "I don't love you."

America nodded, tears beginning to fill his cerulean eyes again. He knew, he knew that his feelings weren't returned in full, but it hurt so much to hear, especially now. "I _know_." He let his eyes drop to Italy's hands. His gaze softened and he reached out and took them in his own, holding them to his chest. "But I love you. I would do anything to make you love me back. I'll do whatever it takes." He insisted, his voice constricted with emotion.

"America." Italy sighed, giving the blond's hands a sharp squeeze. His blue eyes perked up, gazing intently back at Italy. "I know that. But it would be selfish of me to do that to you." The brunette looked away, shame burned a blush onto his soft features. "My Grandpa used to tell me to go where the love is." Italy's grip on his hands intensified to the point of almost being painful. "That's what I want for you. Someone out there loves you more than I do. A-and…" America pulled the Italian to his chest, trying to stifle the mournful cries emitting from him. The blond shushed him gently, his own emotions shattering him on the inside. Italy went on. "And I can't give that to you… I'm so sorry."

"Italy." America murmured, pulling away from their embrace and breaking his grip with Italy's hands in favor of holding the brunette's face delicately between his hands. "There is no one else. There never has been. It's only you." He laughed ironically at his own situation. "I fell in love with you because you're the first person who's ever understood me. You're the first person who I can talk to hours on end and not get sick of. You're the first person who has ever taken me seriously, even with just the little stuff. You're the first person who hasn't stood me up because you didn't like me, you're the first person who's got an open mind about me, my culture." He chuckled sadly, smiling ever so slightly at the bewildered look on Feliciano's face. He looked awestruck. "And that painting you gave me? That was amazing, it held so much emotion." He moved forward and pressed their foreheads together. "I haven't known you for very long, but I don't want to live without you."

Tears began to fall thick and fast down the Italian nation's tan cheeks as he looked Alfred in his tear stained face. At least, to the American's small comfort, Italy looked as though this was one of the hardest things he had to do.

"Then I'm sorry I broke your heart."

Finally, the blond pulled away. He let his hands drop to his sides and he felt as though the world around him had stopped. It was as if everything was breaking around him, the situation finally snapped sharply into focus and Alfred realized there was nothing more he could do.

Italy wasn't his.

Slowly, the brunette began to turn and walk away, back down the hallway. though America didn't notice.

All he could see was the heartbroken look on England's face on that fateful day when he finally left his 'brother' for good.

America's door closed with a very soft 'click' as Italy left. The sound seemed very far away in Alfred's mind.

 _Now I understand…_

 **(AN):**

 **And that's all guys! Sorry the ending isn't exactly happy, there's no sequel but I do have another AmrIta fic on the way in maybe week or so! Thank you for everyone who Favorited/followed my story! Especially to SilverDawn1313 and my supportive friends! You're the best for always reviewing from chapter one! Love ya dear.**

 **Thank you all for reading!**


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